That Which Holds The Image
by TheAngelsHaveThePhoneBox
Summary: Harry Potter faces a boggart that doesn't turn into a Dementor or even Voldermort, but into a horror from his childhood. Now the boggart isn't even a boggart anymore. There's no imitation. That which holds the image of an Angel, becomes itself an Angel.
1. Chapter 1

**(A.N.) Hi! **

**This is my first Harry Potter story (though certainly not my first Doctor Who story, check my profile for more Who-related tales), and I'm planning another 2 chapters, so be sure to drop me a review and let me know what you think. ****:)**

* * *

Strange things happened to Harry Potter. They just did. He'd be standing around, minding his own business, and then, out of nowhere, something bizarre and unexplainable would play out right in front of him. Afterwards, his aunt and uncle would somehow find a way to blame it on him, despite them having no explanation as to how he could have caused it. And eventually, much like the treatment he received from his aunt and uncle, he got used to it. Learned to take disappearing windows and magically re-growing hair in his stride.

One occasion, however, was harder to forget about. One time, something happened to him that he couldn't just shrug, take the blame for, and move on from. One incident haunted him from that point forwards.

It was a rainy day, and Harry had been dragged into town by his Aunt Petunia to carry her bags. He wasn't bothered, really. Harry was just happy to be out of his cupboard and away from Dudley. He was standing outside of a shop that sold very expensive statues and ornaments. Aunt Petunia had said she didn't trust him to be careful and wouldn't pay for anything he broke. So he'd been left there, in the rain, alone.

Again, Harry wasn't too bothered. He'd rather be outside in the rain than silently following his aunt around while she inspected boring sculptures. Besides, he was across the road from the town hall. A grand, majestic building, with stone steps leading up to it, and a beautiful statue of an Angel on the roof, which covered its eyes in despair. He liked this building. It reminded him of a castle, with its two tall spires on either side, and Harry had always liked castles.

Harry saw some other children his age walking past. Their parents were making sure they were properly covered up, lest they catch a cold. With a stab of jealousy, Harry turned back to the town hall. It had been up to him to grab a coat as they left the house, and all he had to grab was an old one of Dudley's that barely even…

Harry's little rant died in his head. Something else had caught his attention.

Hadn't that been…? Wasn't it just…? How could it of…?

He tried to rewind his brain and remember what he'd seen. Because he could of sworn, just a second ago, that the Angel statue had been on the other side of the roof.

Yes, it was. He was certain of it. While previously the Angel had been stood in the centre of the roof, it now sat at the bottom of one of the spires, with one hand raised, as if ready to climb. But that was impossible. Stone statues didn't just move. And it had all happened too fast for it to have been moved by anyone else. It didn't make any sense.

Add it to the list, he thought. Another child might have spent longer wondering how the angel had moved, but, of course, Harry had seen stranger things. He was just glad neither his Aunt or his Uncle had witnessed the event, and so wouldn't be able to blame and/or punish him for it.

On that thought, he turned and glanced through the window to see if his Aunt Petunia looked to be coming out any time soon. Sadly, she was still browsing the ornaments, a sales assistant at her side and talking away in what Harry was sure was a boring explanation of why that particular ornament was perfect for his Aunt.

With a sigh, Harry turned back around, and gasped.

The Angel had moved again. It was facing him now, and it wasn't covering its face anymore. A pair of blank, grey eyes gazed across the street, directly at Harry.

Harry stared back, not sure if he was imagining things. He looked at the people passing by, to see if anyone else had noticed. But no, they continued walking along, with their heads bowed down against the ever worsening rain.

Harry looked back at the Angel, to see it pointing, undeniably, at him.

Harry didn't scare easily; growing up in a dark, spider-infested cupboard does that to a person. But this was scaring him. That statue was looking right at him, and its finger was aimed right at his heart.

And without thinking, Harry blinked.

His eyes were closed for the tiniest fraction of a second, but when they opened again, the Angel didn't look like an Angel anymore. It's facial expression had turned feral. It's mouth had opened wide to reveal fang-like teeth, and stone eyebrows narrowed downwards, enraged.

At the same time, a few drops of rain landed on his glasses, blurring his vision. He quickly took them off, wiped them on his jacket, and put them back.

The Angel was gone.

Harry scanned the roof, the spires, searching for it. He found it halfway down the town hall's steps, glaring at him.

And Harry realised, the statue was moving towards him.

This was impossible, Harry thought frantically. How could the statue be moving at all, let alone moving that fast?

He blinked again.

The Angel was at the bottom of the steps now, clawed hands stretched out in front of it, trying desperately to get to Harry

Harry backed up against the wall of the shop. How was this happening? What did the Angel want with him?

A large lorry drove in front of Harry. When it passed, the Angel was on the other side of road, ready to lunge. All it needed was one more blink.

Harry decided there was nothing else for it. Without taking his eyes off the Angel, he edged his way along the wall, until he had his back against the door of the shop. With a shaky hand he felt around for the handle behind him.

He'd have to be quick. The Angel would cross the road and be at his side as soon as he turned away, Harry was sure of it.

With a deep breath, and a last look at Angel, Harry threw himself through the door and slammed it shut behind him. He found Aunt Petunia a few feet away and ran straight towards her, not caring if he knocked anything over.

"Aunt Petunia!" he gasped when he reached her. "There's a - "

"What are you doing in here?" his Aunt shrieked. "I told you to wait outside."

"I'm sorry, but there's a statue - "

"Go back outside, you stupid boy. Now."

"But Aunt Petunia, it moves when I - "

"I'm terribly sorry, madam," said the shop assistant, looking at Harry in disgust. "But he's getting water on our carpet."

"I'm so sorry," said Aunt Petunia, mortified. "Outside. Now!" she snarled at Harry

Harry just stood there, staring with pleading eyes.

"Now!" she snapped.

Terrified, Harry turned back towards the shop entrance, and gasped again. The Angel was creeping around the side of the window, following Harry with its eyes. Harry looked around in desperation for another way out. He saw another door on the other side of the room, next to the till. His Aunt had returned to negotiating with the shop assistant, so he ran for it.

Bursting through the heavy metal door, he found himself in the dirty alleyway around the side of the antique shop. To his left led back to the street, and where the Angel was. So Harry set off to the right, heart falling when he came face to face with a large metal gate. He pointlessly tried pulling on it a few times, but it was locked solid, too high to climb.

Once again, he tried not to panic. With no other option, he would have to hope that the Angel was still looking through the window, allowing him to slip past unseen and run as fast as he could to somewhere it couldn't find him

With one last tug on the metal gate, he sighed and turned to run.

Except the Angel was in front of him. It's hand was inches away from him, reaching for his throat

Harry was pinned against the gate. There was no way he could squeeze around without coming into actual, physical contact with the Angel.

He tried to think, desperately he tried to work out what to do next. But it was hard to concentrate when he was so scared, and trying with every inch of himself not to blink. Because he knew. This time, if he took eyes off of the Angel for one split second, it would have him.

His eyes began to water, partly because they'd been open too long, partly because he was crying. He was going to die. This Angel was going to kill him, and his Aunt probably wouldn't even notice. She'd forget all about him, just go home with whatever expensive item she'd purchased, while he was killed here in this alley.

At the age of 8, Harry Potter was going to die.

"Oh, God." he whispered. He could feel it coming in the corner of his eyelids. His body was going to betray him, and they would close any second. "Please." he begged, to no one in particular.

His eyes began to twitch uncontrollably. He sobbed, hoped he would see his Mum and Dad soon, and felt his eyes blink shut.

There was a loud smash, and afterwards Harry was surprised to find himself still very much alive.

"What," said a shrill, furious voice. "on Earth, do you think you're doing, you stupid child!"

Harry opened his eyes, and felt something he'd never felt before and would never feel again. Unbelievable, uncontrollable, unimaginable _joy_ at the sight of his Aunt Petunia.

It didn't matter that she, and the snooty shop assistant both looked enraged. He didn't care. There were now three people looking at the Angel, who Harry saw had returned to covering its face with its hands, and turning away from them.

His Aunt Petunia marched over to him and grabbed him by the scruff of his coat, dragging him back towards the large metal door that she'd thrown open seconds before.

"How dare you waltz into this area of the shop?" she roared. "You were breaking and entering, like a common thug! You'll spend a month under the stairs for this! And you had better wipe that smirk off of your face, or I'll wipe it off for you."

But as Harry was dragged back through the shop and towards a whole month in his cupboard, he couldn't help but smile. It was a smile of relief, and exhaustion, and elation at actually being alive. It was life spent in an unhappy home, in a murky cupboard with a horrible Aunt and Uncle, but he didn't care.

Harry Potter was alive!

He was so happy, he barely noticed that the shop assistant hadn't followed them back into the shop.

Instead, the man was still admiring at the beautiful stone statue in his back alley. He was certain it had not been in his back alley when he'd took the bins out an hour ago. Had it been dumped here? Did it have something to do with the boy? And then he realised he didn't care really. There was no owner in sight, and that meant it was his to sell.

It was too heavy to lift himself, he supposed, walking around the sculpture. He would have to fetch some of the young apprentices to shift it for him.

He turned back to the shop, and away from the Angel, but only made it a few steps.

He was never seen again.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A.N.) First of all, MASSIVE thank you to everyone who left a review for Chapter 1. All 25 of you! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.**

**Btw, I had to go out and buy a new copy of Prisoner of Azkaban to write this, because my original copy somehow disappeared from time and space, in the blink of an eye. Strange, isn't it?**

* * *

_Five years later..._

The first thing Harry heard, upon waking up in the middle of the night, was the rain. It was pelting against the window next to his four poster with such fury that he was amazed the other four boys in his dormitory hadn't been roused either. But then again, stormy nights had become quite common since the Dementors had been guarding Hogwarts.

It was a few seconds before Harry remembered that it wasn't the rain which had woken him.

There was a noise. He'd heard it in his sleep. It had drifted into his dreams and pulled him out of them. Only now he couldn't hear it anymore. Just the storm.

He sat up in his bed and strained his ears. He had to listen closely, try to tune out the howling wind and the pounding rain, not to mention the occasional rumble of thunder. After a few moments without any luck, he almost gave up.

But then there it was.

Just for a few seconds, sounding like it was both a million miles away, and yet right outside his window. Harry frowned. What could possibly be making a noise like that? It was some sort of strange, mechanical grinding, with a wheezing whisper to it, that would rise and fall for a few seconds, then splutter and falter, before fading away and being covered once more by the wind and the rain.

It continued like this for a while; the noise would gradually drift back, then disappear just as fast, while Harry racked his brain to try and identify it. Was it something from the magical world he hadn't encountered yet? Something to be worried about? Should he wake Ron up and ask?

He was still debating this when the noise returned, only this time louder than ever. The grinding noise rose and rose until it sounded like it was straining against something, and then the whole room started to shudder violently. The whole castle, it felt like. It was as though someone had grabbed hold of Hogwarts, and was now shaking it like a snow globe.

It lasted less than a minute, and then it was over.

"Ruddy hell," said Ron, pulling back the hangings around his four-poster and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Harry, did you feel that?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I think the whole castle must have felt it. Probably Hogsmeade too."

"What was it?" asked Neville, turning on his lamp. He, Dean and Seamus were also awake now, looking around the room in panic.

"Dunno," said Harry. "Earthquake, maybe?"

Suddenly the door to their dormitory flew open, and Hermione stood there, dressing gown tied around her waist and a candle in her hand.

"Did you feel that?" she asked.

Ron let out a small squeak, and pulled his bed covers up to his chin. "Hermione!" he cried. "This is the boys dormitory! Get out!"

Hermione merely rolled her eyes. She walked over to the window next to Harry's bed and peeked out.

"Hermione," said Harry, "It was probably just an earthquake."

"Do you think so?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

"Yeah, of course," said Harry. "We used to have them all the time in Little Whinging." This was, of course, a lie. But Harry partially wanted everyone to go back to sleep so he could return to listening for the mysterious noise, which he had not been able to hear since the earthquake.

"See," said Ron. "Just an earthquake. So hurry up and go back to your own room!"

Hermione gave him a wry smile and, on her way out of the door, she grabbed the end of Ron's bed covers and pulled them off as she passed. Ron threw both of his hands over his chest to cover himself (though since he was wearing a long-sleeved pyjama top, there was really no need to).

"Don't you have a window next to your bed?" Ron asked angrily.

"Yes," said Hermione, standing in the doorway and glaring at Ron. "But I wanted to check on Harry."

"Oh, nice one," said Dean. "Don't worry about us!"

"Yes, well none of you have got…" She trailed off, glancing at Harry apologetically. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

And she closed the door behind her. Ron turned to Harry, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Does she honestly think," he said, quietly so the other boys wouldn't hear, "that Sirius Black is conjuring up earthquakes so he can sneak into Hogwarts and do you in?"

Ron pulled back his hangings and settled into bed, but Harry remained in his seated position.

He hadn't even considered Black. _Had_ he caused the earthquake? Was that even possible? Did he have something to do with the unearthly noise?

"Harry," said Ron, when he realised Harry hadn't lay back down. "It's not Black. You said it yourself, earthquakes happen now and then. Go to sleep, mate."

Harry looked to his window, where it seemed to be raining even harder now. "Yeah," he said eventually. "You're right."

But even as he lay back down, and until he drifted back to sleep, he was keeping one ear out, listening for that noise unlike any other.

While the castle's inhabitants tried to resume their rudely interrupted slumber, the storm raged more than ever, cementing itself as the only thing to be heard that night. So much so, that when a wall on the second floor corridor started to break away, no one heard.

No one heard the bricks falling from their place. No one heard them smashing into a million pieces when they hit the floor. And because no one heard, no one was around to see what had been hidden where the same bricks once sat.

It was this sight that instantly caught Professor Snape's attention the moment he stepped onto the second floor corridor the next morning..

"Curious, wouldn't you say so, Severus?"

Snape stepped over the mess from the previous evening, and cast his eyes on what had been unearthed. It seemed that beneath what was already presumed to be one of the castle's oldest walls, was an even older one. A wall behind a wall. Except this wall came with a message. Tall, messy letters had been scrawled across the stones. They shone with a magical glimmer when they caught the light, and together they formed a dire warning.

"Curious indeed, Headmaster," he replied.

Professor Dumbledore stood next to him, hands behind his back and gazing at the wall with a look of quiet wonderment.

"I assume," Snape said, "that this was uncovered during last night's disturbance?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Aftershocks from an earthquake a few miles away, colliding with the many protective enchantments around the castle. Magic met nature, and the result was a rather bumpy night's sleep."

Snape stepped closer to the wall. "Do we not consider it interesting?" he enquired.

"That a message just so happened to be written underneath the brickwork of the only wall to suffer any damage?" Dumbledore replied. "Of course. Which is why I have sent for Professor Lupin."

Snape attempted to hold his tongue, but soon found himself speaking, "Headmaster -"

Dumbledore kept his gaze focused on the wall. "I was under the impression this discussion was closed, Severus."

"Open your eyes, man. That… _creature_ is taking your undying trust and exploiting it. You may as well offer Sirius Black his old dormitory back in Gryffindor Tower. He'll help him in one way or another. I wouldn't be surprised to discover last night's quakes were his doing, done simply to provide a cover into the castle for his old friend."

"Severus, you continue to hurl accusations at Professor Lupin just as quickly as I vindicate him of them. I can assure you last night's weather conditions could not have been conjured by any wizard, Lord Voldermort included. They were too powerful. A thing purely of nature. And as for him exploiting my trust, be aware than there are many people who give me the same advice concerning yourself."

"I have proven where my loyalties lie," Snape spat. "Time and time again. But that man, if you can call him that, is -"

There was a light knock on the door to the second floor corridor, and Professor Lupin stood there, smiling brightly.

"You asked to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, Remus. Come right in."

Lupin did as he was asked, and for a second he and Snape simply looked at each other; Snape with undisguised contempt, and Lupin with cool indifference. Finally, Snape cast one last look at the message on the wall, and left the corridor.

Lupin turned to Professor Dumbledore. "What can I do for you?"

After a quick examination of the wall, careful not to do any further to damage to what Professor Dumbledore informed him was one of the oldest standing walls left in the castle, Lupin stepped back, wiping some dirt from his hands.

"No curses, far as I can tell," he said. "It appears as though the words where written simply in paint, and the irremovable charm was performed afterwards. Definitely weren't written with a wand."

Again, he and the Dumbledore couldn't help but stare at the wall in silence. There was something slightly hypnotic about the sight; something that had sat there hidden for so long, and was now on show for all to see.

"So," said Lupin eventually, "in the absence of dark magic, I happily turn the matter over to our History of Magic professor."

"Cuthbert will be delighted." Dumbledore smiled, but his expression soon turned sombre. "I must confess, while I am fascinated by this discovery; something that doesn't often happen to me if I may so myself; it is rather ill-timed. Some students are still feeling uneasy about the last time a message was found written on a wall in Hogwarts."

Lupin nodded in understanding. "Will you be closing this corridor off for today then?"

"Oh, no. I can't see the point in that," Dumbledore said. "I've done my best this morning to ensure that this matter stays between members of staff only. So the entire school probably knows by now, anyway."

Lupin smiled, and before taking his leave, he looked to the Headmaster tentatively. "The name," he said. "Have you ever heard of anyone at Hogwarts who went by it?"

"Never," said Dumbledore, turning his twinkling eyes to the end of the message, where the author had signed his work. "But he's made sure I have now."

* * *

Hermione peered her head around the large, wooden door.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" she asked.

Professor McGonagall removed her glasses and gestured to the chair opposite her desk. "Take a seat, Miss Granger."

Hermione did as she was told, and as Professor McGonagall gave her a long, piercing look, she found herself unable to shake the unfamiliar feeling that she was in trouble. Though whatever for, she couldn't say.

When McGonagall eventually spoke, it was in a sharp, severe voice.

"I was under the impression, Miss Granger, that you could be trusted to be sensible."

Hermione frowned. "I'm sorry, Professor?"

"I went to great lengths to arrange your special circumstances this year, Miss Granger. Pled your case to the Headmaster himself. And all in the belief that should you be allowed to use the time-turner, you would be responsible."

Hermione was completely lost, another feeling she was unfamiliar with. "But Professor, I have done. I've used it exactly how we agreed. Only to attend all my classes, not to give me more time to finish homework or to re-do any work marked incorrect the first time round, nothing."

"Is that so?" Professor McGonagall asked, picking up a slip of paper from her desk. "Then would you care to explain to me, Miss Granger, why I hold in my hand a request for a book from the library's restricted section?"

Hermione quickly tried to remember if she'd requested a restricted book lately, but the requests took so long to be processed that it could very well have been from months ago. "I request a lot of books, Professor."

"That's all very well, Miss Granger. But the problem is that this request was made _nearly 1000 years ago_."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Excuse me, Professor?"

"In the very same week the Hogwarts library first opened, it received a request for this book," McGonagall said, holding up a brown, leather bound book, "to be loaned out to a Miss Hermione Granger, on today's date."

Hermione looked at the book. It was old. Incredibly old. It's cover was battered, and the diamond shape that had been sown into it was fraying at the edges. She had never seen it before in her life. "Professor, I -"

"I made it very clear to you," said McGonagall, looking as cross as Hermione has ever seen here. But worse than that, she looked disappointed. "On the first day of term, I informed you that you were strictly forbidden from travelling back more than one day. Never would I have believed that you would be so careless as to travel back a thousand years! Do you have any idea of the damage you could have caused?"

"But Professor," Hermione insisted, "I didn't! I swear, I would never be that reckless. I don't even know what that book is!"

Professor McGonagall paused, and once again, Hermione was subjected to her stern, intensive gaze.

"Think very carefully before you lie to me, Miss Granger," she said strongly. "These are very dangerous times, as I am sure you are aware. We have a mass-murderer on the loose and it is common knowledge what he's after. If you are receiving books that you did not request, then I shall have to report this to the Headmaster immediately. So I shall ask you once more, and I will trust you to not lie in such a serious situation. Did you use the time-turner to request this book?"

"No, Professor," said Hermione firmly. "I promise you."

Professor McGonagall turned her eyes to the book, suddenly more cautious of it. She placed it carefully back on her desk.

"Very well, Miss Granger," she said quietly. "I believe you, and I apologise for my accusation. Rest assured I will bring this to Professor Dumbledore's attention, and we will investigate the matter at once. You may go."

On her way out of Professor McGonagall's office, Hermione stole another glance at the mysterious brown book, wondering how it could possibly have been meant for her.

* * *

Harry was just about to enter the Great Hall for breakfast, when he felt it. Fear, anxiety, depression; all washing over him with no source in sight.

His insides turning cold, he looked behind him, where the large, oak doors were open, through which he could see the rain still showering the Hogwarts grounds. There must have been a Dementor close by, because Harry felt exactly as he had done before he fainted on the Hogwarts Express.

He wondered if he was going to go on like this, having his head messed with and being made to fear this place he loved so much, until Black was caught.

_No_, Harry thought fiercely. He wouldn't allow it. He clenched his jaw, ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and made his way into the Hall.

Ron briefly looked up from his porridge and mumbled a tired 'Good Morning'.

Harry felt much the same way. The quake might have only lasted a few seconds, but it had woken the entire castle, and the storm was only too willing to give them a hard time getting back to sleep. In fact, it was when Harry was in the middle of trying to stifle a yawn, that the other reason for his exhaustion also made itself known again.

The same trembling, wheezing, groaning noise that he'd heard last night floated past his ears. He whipped his head around the Great Hall, searching for the source of it, but saw only his fellow students eating their breakfast. None of them seemed to be aware of an unnatural grinding noise hanging in the air.

"Ron," he said quickly.

"Mm?" Ron murmured sleepily.

"Can you…"

He trailed off. The noise, once again, had vanished, and now Ron was looking at him, head in his hand, eyelids hanging heavily.

"Can I what?"

Harry hesitated. He remembered the weird looks Ron and Hermione had given him last year, when he'd also heard something no one else could. He was in no rush to be looked at like a nutter again.

Luckily, it was at that moment that Hermione entered the Great Hall, vacantly walking over to them, and wordlessly sitting down at the table.

Harry and Ron looked at her, gazing off into space like she'd been petrified. They shared a bemused look.

"Hermione?" Harry called. "You okay?"

"Hmm?" she said, as though just realising Harry and Ron were even there. "Oh… yes, I suppose. Fine."

Harry frowned at Ron, who simply shrugged in response.

"What did McGonagall want?" Ron asked, taking a gulp of porridge as he spoke.

"To tell me off." Hermione said.

Suddenly there was another unusual noise, only this time it was Ron choking on his breakfast. The whole hall turned to look at them, as he coughed and gasped in shock.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, patting him on the back firmly.

"She… McGonagall… _what?_" Ron asked, eyes watering.

"I don't know, really," said Hermione, returning to her far-off look. "It was very strange." She seemed to mull it over for a moment, then leaned in so that only Ron and Harry could hear. "She had this book, from the library's restricted section. Apparently it had been requested. By me."

"There aren't many books in the restricted section you haven't requested." Harry noted.

"Yes," said Hermione impatiently. "Except this one was requested in the same week the Hogwart's library opened. It's been sitting there for nearly a thousand years, with instructions that it was to be given to me, today."

Harry and Ron frowned much like she had done in McGonagall's office moments before.

"But… how is that even possible?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," said Hermione truthfully.

"Could be a coincidence?" Ron offered. "Maybe one of the first Hogwarts students was called Hermione Granger as well?"

"Doesn't explain why they'd ask for it out a thousand years in the future," Harry reminded him. "What book was it?"

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged. "McGonagall kept it. She said she was going to take it to Dumbledore, have it tested, in case it came from…"

She and Harry looked at each other, knowing very well who she meant. Ron sighed in exasperation.

"Well, Sirius Black's learned some new tricks in Azkaban, hasn't he?" he remarked mockingly. "He's really thinking outside the box with this whole killing-Harry thing. First he's causing earthquakes, now he's requesting thousand-year old library books. What's he gonna do next, Hermione? Bewitch all the castle's doors to slam in Harry's face?"

Hermione rolled her eyes while Harry tried to suppress a grin.

"And anyway," Ron continued. "How could McGonagall blame you for any of this? Its not like there's anyway you could've requested a book a thousand years ago, is there?"

Hermione looked suddenly uncomfortable. "No. No way at all. Anyway, I'm starving, I think I'll have some porridge. Could you pass the milk?"

Ron was looking at her with narrowed eyes as he passed her the jug of milk, when suddenly Fred and George Weasley dropped down on either side of the bench, making Harry, Ron and Hermione jump in surprise.

"So," said Fred.

"What d'you make of it, Harry?" said George.

"What?" said Harry blankly. "Last night? Just a earthquake, wasn't it?"

"_No_," said the twins together.

"Not that," said Fred.

"We mean the wall, of course." George clarified.

"What wall?" Ron asked.

Fred and George sighed and shook their heads.

"What are we going to do with 'em, Georgie?"

"Beats me, Freddie."

"You must be the only plonkers in the whole school who haven't heard yet."

"Look," said Ron tiredly. "Either tell us what you're on about or sod off, its too early."

"The wall!" said George, slapping Ron on the back of his head.

Harry turned to Fred next to him. "What wall?"

"The ancient one on the second floor. It fell apart during the night."

"So what?" asked Ron.

"So there's was something underneath, wasn't there?" George said. "A message under the bricks."

"A message?" Hermione asked, looking interested in the conversation for the first time.

"Yep," Fred grinned. "Irremovable."

"Unexplainable." George added.

"And it isn't half ominous."

"How d'you mean, ominous?" Ron asked.

The twins smirked at each other, then together said, "See for yourselves." And with that, they were gone.

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"Should we?" Ron said.

"Might as well," Harry replied.

Hermione shrugged. "It is on the way to Transfiguration."

And so, ten minutes later, they joined the crowd of students shuffling towards the second floor corridor, all eager to get a look at the hidden message.

"Hermione?" Ron said as they made their way through the castle. "How do _you_ reckon that book was requested under your name?"

"I've already told you, Ron," she said curtly. "I haven't a clue."

There mood turned tightly tense, with Ron looking at Hermione sceptically, and she pretending he wasn't. So Harry quickly spoke up.

"Well if it was Black," he said, "he's hitting me where it hurts. Snape's already gave us three reports to do, the last thing I need is another book to read."

Ron and Hermione laughed slightly, and gave each other knowing looks.

"Harry," said Hermione softly. "For what it's worth, we think you're dealing with this very well."

"Dealing with what very well?"

"Black. I mean, you haven't done anything silly like go after him yourself. And between him and the Dementors, well, I just think you're being very sensible."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "If I let them get to me, they've won, haven't they? No use sitting around being scared. And besides, the alternative is to go back to the Dursley's. _That_ would scare me."

They laughed again, and a few minutes later they reached the second floor. There was a crowd of chattering students around the wall in question, and it took them a while to manoeuvre their way to the front.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed when he saw the message. "Fred and George weren't kidding. Ominous is right."

"These wall are protected against vandalism," said Hermione quietly, entranced by the sight like everyone else. "You can't just write on them and expect it to stay there. Whoever did this must have used very powerful magic to make it last all this time."

"What do you reckon, Harry?" Ron said, turning to his best mate.

But Harry hadn't been listening to a word they'd said. Instead, he'd stared at the message, his insides turning colder than any Dementor could possibly make them, and his mind being instantly sent back to a moment he'd long since buried away.

Rain. A dirty shop alleyway. And a stone statue.

"Harry?" Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder. She could see from his face something was wrong. "Harry, what is it?"

Harry didn't answer. He could do nothing but stare at the wall in front of him where, under the broken bricks, in bright red scribbled letters, was written:

_Dear Hogwarts,_

_Beware the Weeping Angels._

_Love from, _

_The Doctor._


	3. Chapter 3

**(A.N.) Sorry this has taken so long, but it was a nightmare to structure, and it took me a long time to get it to flow naturally. **

**Another ****MASSIVE thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter as well. Good or bad, I appreciate any comments, so lay them on me.**

**Also, I know I said this story would be about 3 chapters long, but since this is chapter 3 and the story isn't over, that's clearly not the case. I think it will actually end up being closer to 5 or 6, but we'll see.**

**Anyway, here's chapter 3:**

* * *

"Well," said Professor Lupin, inspecting the battered book he'd been given to examine. "I certainly picked an interesting week to start my Hogwarts career."

Professor Dumbledore smiled at him from across his desk. The glittering instruments that sat around his office whirred and puffed as they spoke. "I'm sorry to have to call you again so soon."

"Not at all, Albus," said Lupin. "I knew what the job entailed when I took it. I imagined I'd have to sacrifice a few lunch hours, and I prepared myself to inspect ancient graffiti and thousand-year-old library requests on a daily basis."

Dumbledore let him continue his examination, watching as he muttered spells and incantations under his breath and waved his wand over the leather-bound cover. Eventually, however, he sighed and placed the book back on the table.

"I'm afraid I must give you the same answer as this morning," said Lupin. "No curses or dark magic of any kind."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I thought as much," he said, picking the book up from the table and peeking at a few pages as he flicked through them. "As a matter of fact, if the library request had been under the name of any other student, I wouldn't have bothered you with it at all. But given the circumstances, I thought it best to be cautious."

"Do you think _he_ sent it?" asked Professor Lupin carefully.

Dumbledore shook his head. "It was my first thought, I will admit. But without any evidence of dark magic, that theory begins to falter. There is also the fact that school records prove unequivocally that this book has been sitting in the Hogwarts library since the day it opened, over a thousand years ago. Unless Sirius Black has somehow gotten his hands on a time-turner, we must conclude this book has no connections to him whatsoever."

Lupin glanced at the book warily. "And can we be sure he hasn't acquired a time-turner?" he asked.

"Without doubt," said Dumbledore with confidence.

"How, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at him over his half-moon spectacles. "Because, Remus, if Sirius Black had travelled back in time, I would be dead, Lord Voldermort would be in power, and the Castle that we sit in would belong to him."

Lupin felt a chill run through him at the thought, and didn't even dare to picture such a world.

"So what we are left with," Dumbledore went on. "Is a very old, very damaged book, of crude and unintelligible writing, that somehow came to be meant for Miss Hermione Granger."

Lupin looked at him sceptically. "You think its just a coincidence?"

"Logically, it is the only possible explanation. Highly improbably, I will admit. And yet, stranger things have happened, Remus. This is Hogwarts, after all. Many things inside these walls go unexplained. I fear this is one of them. It just so happened to make itself know on the same day as another unexplained event."

He placed the book back on the table, and smiled at Lupin with twinkling eyes. "It's all very interesting, isn't it?"

* * *

The Great Hall was buzzing. By lunch, news of the message on the wall had spread through the entire school, and students were eagerly swapping theories about it's origin.

"I heard Professor Lupin was examining it all night, for dark magic and stuff."

"That blonde girl in Hufflepuff said Dumbledore got the Dementors in to have a look at it. They think its something to do with Sirius Black!"

"Isn't 'Doctor' a muggle word for Healer? Do you think a muggle could have written it?"

And in the middle of all this, was Harry Potter; desperately trying not to think about any messages left on walls, or their relation to horrific episodes from his childhood, and yet sat in a hall surrounded by conversations reminding him of just that.

A loud bang on the Gryffindor table made him jump. He looked up to see Hermione sitting down across from him, almost completely hidden from view by the pile of books she'd dropped onto the table.

"Well," she huffed, "this is even worse than the last time someone left a message on a wall. The library is _heaving_."

Ron, sitting next to Harry, gave her a shrug while he tucked into his lunch. "You should've learnt your lesson from the Chamber of Secrets and gone straight there."

"I did go straight there, Ron," said Hermione, nodding to the stack of books in front of her. "And I've found nothing. I've checked _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them_, I've checked _The Wild Wonders Anthology_, I've even managed to have quick flick through _The Monster Book of Monsters_, before it started trying to eat me, and then itself. Not one of them has even a passing reference to a'Weeping Angel'."

"What about the Doctor?" said Harry sharply. "Did you find out who he was?"

Ron and Hermione seemed slightly surprised at the sound of his voice. Mainly because Harry had barely spoken since they'd first laid eyes on the message.

"No," said Hermione. "He's not in _Hogwarts: A History_, he's not in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century__. _I found a list of notable ex-teachers and students, too, and he wasn't on either. The man's a ghost. Well, not an _actual_ ghost, but you know what I mean."

Harry felt his slim glimmer of hope die away. In the back of his mind, he had thought that if Hermione could find out who this 'Doctor' was, Harry might be able not be alone in this situation. But no, it seemed. While the rest of Hogwarts had fun speculating, Harry was the only person who knew just what a Weeping Angel really was. How dangerous it could be.

That is, if the message on the wall was even referring to the same creature that had attacked him all those years ago. After all, Harry had spent the past five years convinced that the killer-statue encounter had all been in his head. Did this message prove that to be untrue? Was it a really warning about the same Angel that had tried to kill his 8 year old self? Or was he scaring himself a strange coincidence?

The confusion and anxiety overwhelmed him, and Harry was forced to drop his head into his hands and take a deep breath.

"Harry," said Hermione softly, watching him with worried eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled, as he had done the other four million times Hermione had asked him that.

"You've been awfully quiet all morning," she persisted.

"I'm just tired," he said, sitting up straight in hopes it would appease her. "That's all."

"It just seem like ever since we saw - "

"Hermione," he cut her off, losing his patience looking at her firmly. "I'm fine. So just drop it, okay?"

Hermione bit her lip for second, but nodded weakly and looked away. A tense silence fell between them. While Harry tried to find the nerve to apologise, Ron ended up breaking it by clearing his throat.

"Shall we make a move?" he asked with forced cheerfulness. "We'll be late for Charms if we don't leave now."

They picked up their books and left the Hall, but unfortunately, the awkward silence followed them. As they made their way through the castle, Harry was very aware of Hermione casting worried glances at him every few minutes, and he might have snapped if Ron hadn't spoken again.

"I don't think I've ever seen Hogwarts corridors so empty," he observed. "Especially not at this time of day."

"I suppose everyone will be on the second floor," said Hermione. "Getting another look in before afternoon classes."

Harry rolled his eyes. How he wished conversation wouldn't keep coming back to the second floor corridor.

Although, now that he thought about it, it was true that with lunch over and classes ready to resume, the hallways should have been bustling with students. But apart from one or two passing others, they found themselves quite alone as they wandered towards the Charms classroom.

After being forced to overhear their conversations all morning, Harry might have enjoyed their absence. Except that without the usual crowd of students running past in every direction, he was suddenly noticing how many stone statues there were in Hogwarts.

Every few feet was a sculpture, or a bust, or an effigy, all looking a lot more sinister than he remembered, and all feeling as though they were staring directly at him.

As they walked through the halls, Harry couldn't help giving every statue a cautious once-over. But there were dozens of them in any one hallway, and soon his eyes were jumping back and forth across the corridor, from one stone face to another, trying to keep all of them in view at once.

It was while he was eyeing the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that something rushed past his peripheral vision. Just for a second, and so quick that when he spun around to face it, there was nothing there. Except, of course, for a stone gargoyle which sat perfectly still against the opposite wall. It was next to a large window, so perhaps Harry had simply seen a bird fly past. But he didn't have time to consider that, because he felt something else move behind him.

He spun around again. Gregory the Smarmy was lifeless, completely unmoving. But Harry's panicking mind was convinced it was an inch or two closer to him.

He heard a creak behind him, and whirled around to face that. Wherever he looked, statues were dotted all over, surrounded by magical paintings that moved in and out of frames, tricking his eyes as they did. Harry started to panic, seeing things that weren't there, and soon his gaze was flying across he hallway at high speeds, frantically trying to keep his eyes on everything all at once.

"Harry!"

He felt Ron's hand grip his shoulder, steadying him, and they were both looking at him with very worried expressions.

"What's up?" asked Ron.

"Are you alright?" said Hermione.

"Yes," said Harry quickly, but on second thought, added, "No. Really, really no. I'm think I'm… I mean, I'm not feeling well, I'm gonna go to the Hospital… place."

"Wing?" Hermione offered.

"Yeah, there," he said, already backing away from them as he spoke. "Tell Flitwick I'm… I mean, tell him where I've… I'll see you later."

And then he was running. Soaring through the corridors, flying up stairs, and not daring to look at any of the statues he passed along the way. He didn't even realise he was running to Professor Dumbledore's office until he was halfway to it, but in retrospect it was the only place to go. He had to warn Dumbledore, he had to get help.

The next thing Harry knew, he was colliding with someone's midsection, and a wounded voice said, "_Umpth!_"

Staggering backward, Harry looked up to see a slightly winded Professor Lupin.

"Harry," he half said, half gasped. "I'm quite sure there are rules against running in the corridors. Especially when you end up crashing into teachers."

"I'm so sorry, sir," said Harry, rubbing his nose.

Lupin waved a hand. "Don't worry about it," he said, regaining his breath. "You were in quite a hurry. Something the matter?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, his tale of a rainy day, a dirty shop alleyway and murderous stone Angel ready to tumble out. But it was only then that he realised for the first time how ridiculous it all sounded, and how insane it would make him look. How could he even begin to explain his suspicions that a statue which had attacked him five years ago might be back to finish the job; and that the message found hidden under a wall for hundreds of years was actually intended as a warning for him?

That was why, ultimately, his reply was, "No, sir. Nothing the matter. Everything's fine."

Lupin seemed unconvinced, but he let it pass. "Well, then," he said. "I'll let you get off to class then, shall I?"

He smiled and started walking down the hall, until Harry suddenly called after him, "The message, sir."

Lupin turned back to him, perplexed. "Message?"

"The writing found underneath the wall on the second floor."

"Ah," said Lupin, walking back towards him. "Yes. Remarkable, isn't it?"

"Are you worried, sir?" said Harry, directly ignoring his question. "Is Professor Dumbledore worried?"

Lupin looked lost again. "How do you mean 'worried'?"

"Well, it's clearly - I mean, it looks like a warning. To the whole school. I just thought, as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, you might be worried. About a 'Weeping Angel' and stuff. Whatever that actually is, I mean."

Lupin gave a bemused laugh. "Harry, I think the message is merely a lost Hogwarts prank that has been unearthed a few centuries too late. It was probably meant as a way to frighten first years. And as for a Weeping Angel, to my knowledge, no such creature exists. So, no, Harry. I'm not worried, and neither is Professor Dumbledore."

Harry's heart sank again. He could he explain his fears to Lupin or Dumbledore if they thought it was just a hoax?

When Harry didn't speak, Professor Lupin gave him a long, concerned look, and for a moment seemed to be hesitating over his next words. In the end, however, he changed the subject entirely.

"Anyway" he said. "First class with me tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Harry smiled feebly.

Lupin gave him a knowing grin. "I'd get a good night's rest, if I were you. I think it will be quite exciting."

* * *

Harry's conversation with Professor Lupin had only left him feeling even more alone. If that message had been meant as a warning, Hogwarts staff weren't taking it very seriously.

Throughout afternoon classes, students frequently attempted to persuade teachers into revealing whatever they knew about the message; much like they had done last year when the Chamber of Secrets mystery swept the school. Only this time, the teachers weren't talking. Mostly because they didn't know any more than the students, but it still meant that when lessons finished for the day, Harry wasn't the only one in a foul mood.

"Can't see why they're keeping it such a big secret," grumbled Ron, as he, Harry and Hermione left the Herbology Greenhouses and made their way back towards the castle. "It can't be worse than a massive snake living under the school and picking off muggle-borns, can it?"

"Maybe Professor Dumbledore has asked them to keep quiet," said Hermione pointedly. "If the message is warning us about something, I'm sure Dumbledore doesn't want everyone panicking like they did last year."

"Dumbledore thinks it's a joke," said Harry, with a hint of bitterness. "And so do all the other teachers. They're not saying anything about it because they don't think there's anything to say."

"How d'you know?" asked Ron.

Harry shook his head vaguely. "I was talking to Professor Lupin about it earlier."

"Ooh," said Hermione with piqued interest. "Did he say anything about his first lesson tomorrow?"

"Yeah," said Harry rubbing his bleary eyes. "He said something about fun, or exciting; I dunno, I wasn't really listening.

"A fun Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson," Ron mused. "That'll be a change."

They crossed the grounds and stepped into the Entrance Hall, where they were spotted by Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Granger," called the Transfiguration professor. "Can I have a word?"

Hermione walked over to her, and Harry and Ron followed on instinct.

"I meant alone," said Professor McGonagall irritably, turning to Hermione. "My office?"

Hermione nodded, but before they left, Professor McGonagall gave Harry an enquiring gaze.

"Are you quite alright, Potter?" she asked. "You look pale."

"I'm fine, Professor," said Harry wearily.

"Are you sure?" said McGonagall. "You don't feel at all ill?"

"No, professor." he said flatly.

"Well you did go to the Hospital Wing earlier," Hermione mentioned meekly, earning a furious glare from Harry, who now had McGonagall looking at him with increased interest.

"What did Madam Pomfrey say?" she asked.

"Nothing!" Harry said, temper rising. "I mean, I didn't even end up going."

"Don't be silly, Potter. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be happy to give you some chocolate and send you on your way."

Harry was momentarily confused at the mention of chocolate, until he realised that Professor McGonagall thought he was being troubled by the Dementors.

"Really, Professor," he said, trying his best to keep the anger out of his voice. "I'm fine. Honestly."

"Potter there's no sense in acting brave," said McGonagall.

"She's right, Harry." Hermione added. "Its nothing to be ashamed of."

Even Ron decided to voice his thoughts. "Harry, maybe you should just go and let them check you over."

Finally, Harry erupted. "_Will everyone just shut up, I said I'm fine!_"

His voice echoed around the vast Entrance Hall. Ron and Hermione looked at him, eyebrows just about hovering over their heads. Then they both turned to Professor McGonagall, whose face had turned from worried and companionate, to stunned and incredibly cross.

"Well," she said quietly. "I'm glad to hear it. I hope you'll still be fine when you join me for Detention. Tonight, my office, 7 o'clock."

Harry sighed as he watched her walk away, taking Hermione with her.

* * *

Even upon discovering a mysterious note from Hogwart's past on a wall beneath a wall, Hermione had spent most of the day wondering how a library request made a thousand years ago could have been meant for her. Nor could she stop herself from imagining what said book could possibly be about.

Now, as she in front of the Gryffindor common room fireplace, the same mysterious book finally back in her hands, she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed.

"So," said Ron, sat in the armchair across from her, and watching her flick through the tattered pages. "What's it about?"

Hermione let out a small sigh, and closed the book.

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing whatsoever. It's pure nonsense. I can make out something about 'dreams' and 'images' every few pages, but other than that it's barely even readable." She turned the book over in her hands, running her fingers across the worn leather cover, with its diamond-shaped stitching that was unravelling at the seams. "Why were you meant for me?"

Ron frowned. "I thought McGonagall said…"

"She did," said Hermione. "And I know, if Albus Dumbledore thinks this is just pure happenstance, than who am I to disagree. But I can't help but wonder, who made the request, and why today's date? Why me?"

Ron shrugged, looking back towards the boy's dormitory stairs. "It's all been checked and tested; they wouldn't have given it back to you if it hadn't. So just forget about it."

Hermione gazed at him, and smiled despite herself. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be as carefree as Ron Weasley."

Ron didn't reply, instead turning serious and nodding towards the stairs. "Here he comes."

Hermione looked up to see Harry trudging down the stairs from his dormitory. As he started walking towards her and Ron, they both stood up and prepared to talk. However, Harry walked straight past them without any acknowledgment, and left the common room.

Ron gave her a frustrated look, and they followed him out of the portrait hole.

"Harry," said Hermione when they caught up to him in the hall.

"I'm not speaking to you," said Harry curtly, not even bothering to look at them as he did.

"Harry, we're just trying to help, mate," said Ron.

"Oh," replied Harry. "Well, thanks. Detention with McGonagall in the first week of term. Big help you two are. Just leave me alone."

Since the delicate approach hadn't worked, Hermione reluctantly gave Ron the signal to switch to plan B. He walked forward, grabbed Harry by the shoulders, and pushed him into the nearest empty classroom, Hermione following after them. Once all three were inside, Ron placed himself firmly between Harry and the door.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked angrily.

"Sorting you out," Ron replied.

"Something's wrong," said Hermione, continuing before Harry had a chance to cut in. "And don't bother telling us that you're fine, because we know you're not. So just stop being so stubborn and tell us!"

"There is nothing wrong," said Harry through gritted teeth.

"Right," said Ron sarcastically. "So acting like a nutter in an empty hallway, lashing out at your mates, and screaming at teachers is just normal behaviour for you now?"

Harry said nothing, staring at his feet while his temper started to boil again.

"Just _talk_ to us," Hermione pleaded. "Properly. Whatever its is, you know you can tell us. If its about the Dementors, or Black - "

"Oh for goodness sake, Hermione!" Harry snapped. "If I was half as scared of Black as you seem to want me to be, I'd be hiding underneath my bedcovers until Dumbledore told me it was alright to come out. So just shut up!"

The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them. Hermione didn't react, she didn't even look offended. Instead, she and Ron just looked at him, and let him realise how much of a prat he'd been. Instantly, all of the anger he'd been using to mask his fear seemed to rush out of him, leaving him feeling both embarrassed and about as tired as he'd ever felt in his life.

"Harry," said Ron sombrely. "What's going on?"

Harry opened his mouth to talk, and this time it all came out. He pulled up a chair, and told them everything. About the Angel, about what happened when he was eight, and about what he was afraid the message on the wall might mean.

Ron and Hermione listened in silence. They didn't scoff or laugh, and they didn't interrupt him. They waited until he was finished before they asked any questions.

"Did you ever tell your Aunt?" said Hermione.

Harry laughed dryly. "Of course I didn't. I got enough punishment for being in the shop alleyway, didn't want to add more on top for being a liar. I never told anyone. Tried to pretend it didn't happen, I suppose. I'd have nightmares every now and then, but other that I had nearly forgotten about it. Until today."

"And you never saw it again?" asked Ron. "The Angel?"

Harry shook his head. "No." Ron looked away thoughtfully. "What?"

"Nothing," said Ron. "Its just… if it really wanted you, it could've gone straight after you, right? It could have got you the moment you turned your back. Maybe it forgot about you too."

Harry had never thought about that. His eight year old self had spent so much time hoping the Angel would leave him alone, that he never considered why it let him go so easily.

"And even if the message was a warning," said Hermione. "It was written hundreds of years ago. Even if a Weeping Angels was at Hogwarts, it couldn't possibly have been the same one that attacked you, and its fairly safe to say its gone by now."

Also a perfectly valid point. So much so that Harry could've kicked himself for being so silly.

"If you're really worried, you could tell Dumbledore," Ron suggested.

Harry shrugged. "From what Lupin told me, Dumbledore didn't take it very seriously. I thought if I told him I'd look like a idiot. So instead I just acted like one." He looked up at them. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. It's just… that was probably the worst day of my life. In the Chamber, and even with the philosopher's stone, I nearly died, but that was _for_ something, you know? I was fighting! With the Angel, there was no fighting. There was no way to fight. It just came at me, and if my Aunt hadn't been there when she was… I don't know what it would've done to me."

Hermione reached out and gave his hand a small squeeze. "But it didn't get the chance, Harry. You escaped!"

"You're the Boy Who Lived," Ron grinned. "Even back then, apparently."

Harry couldn't help the smile that found its way on his face.

"Honestly," said Ron, as they left the classroom. "I'm starting to wonder if you can be killed, Harry. Don't reckon anything will ever be able to do you in unless you let them."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped.

Harry just laughed, and Ron looked at her innocently.

"What? I'm serious," he said. "Maybe he's indestructible."

* * *

"You're late, Mr Potter," said Professor McGonagall, putting down her papers and removing her glasses.

"I'm sorry, Professor," said Harry, stepping into her office. "I, er, lost track of time."

She gave him a stern and unamused gaze, and then directed him to the far side of her office, where stood a very large and dusty bookcase. The wooden structure seemed aged and unstable, and by the amount of books packed onto it, Harry strongly suspected it was only being kept up by magic.

"My bookcase has been in need of a good clean for a very long while," said Professor McGonagall. "You will remove all of the books and give it a good polish. After which, you can rearrange the books in alphabetical order. Without magic, I should add."

"Yes, professor," said Harry, grouchily making his way over to the bookcase.

Professor McGonagall had an old wireless radio on her desk, and once Harry started noisily removing the books from their shelves, she turned it on and the sounds of classical music filled the room.

Not long after, there came a knock at the door, and Filch poked his head into the room to the room, telling Professor McGonagall that Professor Dumbledore wished to speak to her. McGonagall informed Harry that he was to keep working until she retuned, and left the room.

Harry did as he was told, trying to get his task over with so that he could return to his dormitory and get some much needed sleep. He continued cleaning the now empty shelves without supervision, until an audio crackle caught his attention.

He turned towards Professor McGonagall's desk, where the soft music that had been coming from her radio had stopped. There was another rustle of static, and now he could hear a man's voice coming from the radio.

Harry assumed the radio had simply faulted and changed channels to the Wizard equivalent of one of those boring political debate shows that his Uncle Vernon liked to listen to and pretend he knew what the guests were speaking about.

"_Yep, that's me,_" the man on the radio was saying. "_… Yes, I do ..._ "

Harry didn't pay much attention (though the man's thick cockney accent reminded him of a shopkeeper he'd met during his summer in Diagon Alley).

"_Yep … And this …_" the man on the radio continued.

Harry returned to work, though he was mainly thinking of ways he could make up for how he'd acted around Ron and Hermione today. He only wished he'd gotten his Hogsmede form signed, he might have been able to get something for the both of them there.

"… _Are you gonna read out the whole thing? … I'm a time-traveller. Or I was. I'm stuck, in - _"

Another blip of static made Harry turn to the radio again. The man on the radio's voice sped up, like someone had pressed fast-forward button on him. More static, and he was speaking normally again.

"_-ite possibly … Afraid so … 38! …_"

Again, Harry wasn't really listening. He was still feeling very thick for actually believing a statue he'd encountered five years ago had somehow hunted him down, and that a hoax, probably perpetrated the Fred and George Weasley of Hogwart's past, had him acting like a lunatic.

The man on the radio was covered by fizzing interference for a fourth time, making Harry feel like walking over to the desk and giving it a good smack.

"_People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey… stuff._"

Harry had to laugh at that.

"Don't think you thought that sentence through very well, mate," he muttered to himself.

"_It got away from me, yeah._"

Harry stopped cleaning.

Slowly, he turned around to face the radio, sitting on McGonagall's desk and crackling away innocently. He looked around the room quickly, just to check if anyone had entered without him seeing. But, he was alone.

"I really must need some sleep," he said, picking up his dust cloth again and shaking his head. "Its time to call it a day when you start thinking radios can hear you."

"_Well, I can hear you_."

Harry whirled around again, and reached for his wand. Grabbing it in his hand, he threw his arm out to point at the radio, which had started to crack and speed up with increased frequency.

"_Well, not hear you exac - _" Static. "_ - copy of the finish transcr - _" Static. " _- communicate, we have got big prob - _" Static. "_Lonely Assassins, they used to be call - _" Static. "_- quantum locked_ - "

Harry didn't have a clue what was happening. Radios that spoke to you might have been common in the Wizard world, he didn't know. But he'd had a weird enough day already, and he didn't have it in him to deal with this. He had to get out.

Cautiously, with his wand still aimed at the radio, he started making his way towards the door. He was almost to it, when the radio finally seemed to settle itself.

"_In the sight of any living thing, they literally turn to stone,_" said the man, stopping Harry in his tracks. "_And you cant kill a stone. 'Course, a stone cant kill you either. But then you turn your head away. Then you blink. And oh yes it can._"

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, staring at the radio in disbelief. "How do you know about them? Did you write the message?"

Unfortunately, the radio chose that moment to descend into static crackling again. So Harry walked up to the desk and pointed his wand right at it.

"Who are you?" he asked again. "Is this the Doctor?"

This time, the radio didn't answer for a long time, and Harry started to wonder if he was truly going insane. But then the man started to speak again, his voice turning urgent and desperate.

"_They're coming. The angels are coming for you. But listen, your life could depend on this. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you could believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink!_"

Harry backed away from the desk, heart pounding, hands shaking, and the same thought running through his mind over and over.

The Angel was coming for him.

The man continued even after Harry had ran away, offering his last words to an empty room.

"_Good luck._"

* * *

**(A.N.) Just in case anyone is wondering:**** yes, even though that was the voice of the 10th Doctor, this is an 11th Doctor story. All will become clear. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**(A.N.) First of all, I have to apologise for the amount of spelling mistakes in the previous chapter. I made some quick changes before posting and didn't read through thoroughly enough. If I've missed any in this chapter, please point them out.**

**Anyway, here's Chapter 4:**

* * *

_The second floor corridor was dark. Harry could barely make out the hand in front of his face, and the __'Lumos' spell wasn't working. The words 'Beware The Weeping Angels' shone with a bright red glimmer against the broken bricks, the only source of light to be seen._

_Harry walked for what felt like an age, and then he found himself in a long hallway lined with many doors, each of which looked exactly like the entrance to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. _

_Slowly, he moved forward to get a closer look. The door on his left was marked with a plaque, which was engraved with the word 'Voldemort'. He looked to the door on his right and saw it also had a plaque, this one reading 'Dementor'. The next door down had a plaque too, which said 'Sirius Black', and the one opposite that read 'Death'. The next door, however, was missing its plaque. It looked like it had been ripped away. And what's more, this door was ajar._

_Harry gave it a long look. Curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped towards it._

"_Don't go in," said a voice from the end of the hall, making Harry jump._

_He turned__,__ and saw that his eight year old self was standing a few feet away, eyes wide and face pale._

"_Why?" Harry asked._

_Eight year old Harry just bit his lip and shook his head._

"_Don't go in," he said again._

_In the distance, there was a noise. A very old, very unnatural noise. A distorted grinding noise that tried to reach them, but kept getting pushed back. The younger Harry seemed frightened by the noise, and ran off the down the hall._

_Harry watched him go, then turned back to the door. He could hear rain on the other side, and there was a foul smell coming __through __it. The grinding noise was getting louder, but Harry didn't care. He was going inside._

_He reached out for the handle, but never made it that far. The grinding noise rose and rose, then became so loud that Harry had to clamp his hands against his ears and then…_

…he woke up. He shot upwards in his four poster, still in his clothes from the previous day, and looked quickly over to Ron's bed. It was empty, like each of the other boy's beds.

Harry sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his messy hair. Ron had been asleep when Harry had returned from his detention, and Harry had spent so long wondering if he should wake him up and tell him about the voice on the radio, that he must've fallen asleep himself from sheer exhaustion.

He quickly changed into his uniform and went down to the common room, expecting to find Ron and Hermione, but instead finding it deserted. For the first time, Harry wondered how long he'd been asleep. He looked at the grandfather clock in the corner, surprised to see it showing 12:30pm.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he asked Ron and Hermione, when he found them in the Great Hall eating lunch.

"Tried to," Ron said, mouth full of food. "You wouldn't budge. Anyway, the day you had yesterday, we decided to just leave you. We've been telling teachers you're chucking your guts out."

Harry looked to Hermione, who's tight-lipped expression told him this was true, though she didn't entirely approve of it.

"Right," said Harry. "Thanks, then, I suppose. But listen, I need to tell you something."

"Can you tell us on the way to Defence against the Dark Arts?" asked Hermione, noticing the time. "We don't want to be late for our first lesson.

Unfortunately, Harry didn't get the chance to explain anything. The halls were crowded again today; the novelty of the mysterious message under the wall having wore off. And since he didn't want anyone to overhear his tale of a radio speaking to him, he told Ron and Hermione he would tell them later, and continued on the way to Professor Lupin's classroom.

The room was very talkative as they waited for their new professor to arrive, but Harry wasn't joining in. He barely even noticed when Professor Lupin entered, and followed on autopilot when they were led to the staff room. His mind was focused on more pressing matters.

For one glorious half hour last evening, he'd allowed himself to believe he was safe, that the message on the wall meant nothing. But the voice on the radio had changed all that, and now he didn't know what to think. As Hermione and Ron had pointed out, the idea that a statue he hadn't seen for five years was trying to kill him was absurd, but how could the eerie warning coming for a wireless be explained? Could someone have heard him confessing his fears to Ron and Hermione, and decided to play a cruel prank on him? Or was he just properly losing his mind?

It wasn't until he was being shuffled into a line of other students that Harry broke out of his thoughts and finally paid attention to what was happening around him. There was a severed hand crawling around the room, and everyone was laughing.

"Wait," he said to Hermione behind him. "What are we doing, again?"

Hermione gave him a scolding look for not listening properly. "We're facing a Boggart," she said.

"…what's a Boggart?"

Ron stepped forward, there was a '_crack!'_, and then a giant spider was in front of them. Ron looked briefly frozen, but gradually raised his wand, cried "_Riddikulus!_", and the spider's legs disappeared. It's hairy round body fell to the floor and rolled away from Ron, coming to a stop at Harry's feet.

"Here!" said Professor Lupin, trying to rush forward in front of Harry.

But too late.

There was a _crack_, and the spider disappeared. In its place, with its hands open and outstretched, and with its cold grey eyes staring right into Harry's, was a Weeping Angel.

The room went silent. No one laughed, or giggled that Harry Potter was frightened of a statue. Because there was something about the stone figure in front of them that wasn't funny in the slightest. Even Professor Lupin simply gazed at it for a few seconds, but soon came to his senses.

"Right," he said, trying to lighten the mood again. "Wand up, Harry. Come on, _'Riddikulus'_."

Harry didn't move. He hadn't moved since the moment the Angel had appeared. His breath was caught in his throat, his whole body had gone numb, and he could do nothing more but stare at the Angel in shock.

"Harry?" said Professor Lupin. When he received no response, and the students began to whisper, he moved forward and steered Harry away. "Alright, Harry, why don't you just come over here with me, okay? Hermione, step forward, have at it!"

The students turned their attention back to the fun, cheering on Hermione as she stepped towards the statue, while Lupin led a barely moving Harry to the back of the class.

"Harry?" he said with deeply worried eyes. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"Professor Lupin…" came Hermione's voice.

"Just a second," said Lupin kindly, without turning around. He lowered his voice again, and tried to meet Harry's gaze, but it seemed to be locked on the spot behind Lupin, where the Boggart-statue was standing. "Harry, its okay, its not real. Its just a Boggart."

"Professor Lupin…" said Hermione again, and Lupin noticed her anxious tone.

He turned around, assuming Hermione had also been frightened by whatever form the Boggart had chosen for her. Only the Boggart hadn't changed form. It was still a stone statue.

Lupin frowned. He turned to another student. "Seamus," he said, curious. "Step forward for me, would you?"

Hermione moved aside and Seamus stepped up to the Boggart. There was no _crack_, no change, the Boggart remained a stone angel. The students swapped worried glances, and Lupin felt the mood turning tense.

"Not to worry, everyone," he said, coming to stand in front of the Boggart himself. It didn't, as he expected, snap into the shape of a full moon. "We must've overdone it. The Boggart is too confused to carry on. Neville, finish it off for us!

Neville raised his wand towards the statue, and cried, "_Riddikulus!"_

Nothing happened.

Neville, along with everyone else, looked to Professor Lupin. Lupin frowned again, and raised his own wand.

"_Riddikulus._" he said, to no effect. "_Riddikulus!" _he said, clearer and firmer, but still without result. The Angel didn't seem to be going anywhere.

The strained silence was broken by a jet of red light flying at the Angel from the back of the class.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry yelled.

The student threw their arms over their heads and ducked out of the way, some of them screamed.

"Harry!" Lupin shouted in astonishment. "What are y -"

But Harry wasn't finished.

"_Stupefy!_" he shouted again, sending another jet of light bouncing off the statue. "_Confringo! Reducto!"_

"Harry, for God's sake!" Ron shouted over the chaos.

But Harry continued to light up the staffroom, firing curse after curse at the Angel, until Professor Lupin turned his wand on him.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Harry's wand shot out of his hand and across the room, where it was caught by Ron. Suddenly, Harry found his fellow Gryffindors staring at him in shock. Professor Lupin looked like he was torn between being angry or concerned. He turned to Hermione and Ron.

"Take him to the Hospital Wing, now."

Ron and Hermione did as they were told, hurrying forward and grabbing Harry by each arm.

"Let go of me, let me go!" Harry was saying as they dragged him out into the hall.

"Harry," said Hermione pleadingly. "Calm down."

"I will _not _calm down!" Harry fumed, fighting out of their grasp and looking at them.

"Don't you realise what that was?" he shouted. "That was the Angel! The Angel that tried to kill me when I was eight is standing in the middle of the staff room!"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "Harry, it's a Boggart. You weren't listening to Professor Lupin. A Boggart takes the form of whatever it thinks will scare you the most. Its not real, its just an imitation."

"It was spider for me," said Ron. "You saw it. And before it changed into that it was a banshee, a severed hand, a bloody eyeball…"

"Except it didn't change back!" said Harry. "Its still an Angel, and what if it's stuck like that?"

"Okay," said Ron reluctantly. "Its strange, I'll give you that. But you can't just start firing curses at it in the middle of a Defence Against The Dark Arts lesson!"

"Oh, yes I can!" said Harry, beginning to walk back towards the staff room, but stopping when he found his pockets empty. "My wand? Where did my wand land, did you see?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked at Ron. Harry did the same.

"It's here," said Ron apprehensively. "I have it."

"Oh," Harry replied, and he walked back to Ron, holding out his hand. Ron looked at it, then back at Harry, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said sadly. "I can't. Not until you calm down a bit."

Harry looked at him in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"Harry," said Hermione quietly. "There was a class full of Gryffindors in that room, as well as an Angel. What if you'd missed?"

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Glaring at them with utmost betrayal, he stormed off down the corridor.

Ron called after him. "We're supposed to take you to -"

"I think I can find the Hospital Wing on my own," said Harry, and left Ron and Hermione standing in the middle of the empty hallway.

* * *

"I've been warning you about Potter for three years now," said Snape, matter-of-factly. "The boy has a nasty temper, exactly like his father."

Next to him, Professor Lupin rolled his eyes irritably. Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, chose to ignore the comment, sitting behind his desk with his fingertips pressed together thoughtfully

"I think, Severus," said Lupin. "You're rather forgetting the special circumstances. While casting curses in a room full of students cannot be condoned, remember that Harry had just come face to face with a perfect recreation of his greatest fear."

Snape gave Lupin a thin, spiteful smile. "Before I forget, Remus, might I also commend you on your decision to place Harry Potter, the boy who has had three separate attempts on his life by the Dark Lord himself, in front of a Boggart."

"That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore sternly.

"No," said Lupin. "He's quite right there, Albus. It was very foolish of me. The thought honestly didn't occur to me until Harry stepped forward, but those third years could easily have found themselves staring at Voldemort himself this afternoon. I tried to stop it, but I wasn't quick enough."

"This is not the issue," said Dumbledore, disregarding Lupin's words as he had done Snape's. "The issue is what the Boggart did turn into. I had almost put yesterday's discovery down as another of Hogwarts many harmless mysteries. But a message warning of Angels the day before a statue of one appears inside the castle cannot be coincidence."

"I feel I should also mention," said Lupin gravely, "The spells Harry fired at that statue should have reduced it to rubble. But there's not a scratch on it."

Dumbledore sat in silence, flexing his fingers and reflecting on everything he'd just been told. Finally, he looked back to them.

"I shall have to see it for myself," he said. "Is it still in the staffroom?"

Lupin nodded. "I thought it best to leave it exactly where it stood."

"Then I shall meet the both of you down there shortly, just as soon as I see to Harry."

Snape and Lupin left the Headmaster's office and made their way to the staffroom in silence. It was not until they were outside the door that Snape chose to voice his thoughts.

"Boggarts are very basic subjects for a third-year class, don't you think? I would have started the new term with something a tad more complicated." He smiled with malice. "Werewolves, perhaps?"

Lupin simply returned his smile. "Then we are lucky that you are not, nor have you ever been, Defence Against The Dark Arts professor."

Snape's smirk slipped off his face, and Lupin tried not to chuckle as he opened the staffroom door. He had barely taken a step into the room before he stopped in his tracks.

"What?" said Snape lazily. "Have you misplaced your statue, Lupin?"

"It was there," said Lupin, staring dumbfounded at the spot where the Boggart had first turned into the Angel, the very same spot he'd left it in. "It was right there and…"

He looked around the room quickly, and soon found what he was looking for. Snape did too.

"Is that it?" he said, starting to walk forwards. Lupin stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Don't," he said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because its moved."

The statue, previously in the centre of the room, was now in the far corner. It was facing a window, as if gazing out across the Hogwarts grounds.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Snape spat.

"Severus, I tell you, it's moved!" Lupin took a few cautious steps towards the statue, looking back and forth between the centre and the corner of the room, as if mapping the distance it had travelled.

"Someone must have moved it, then," said Snape. "Filch, or one of the house-elves."

Lupin shook his head as he came to stand next to the statue. "Its hands have moved."

When it had first formed in front of Harry, the Angels hands had been open and outstretched. But now, one hand was touching the pane of glass it stood in front of, and the other was resting against its cheek.

"The hands are in completely different places," Lupin said, more aloud and in complete disbelief than to Snape.

Snape approached the Angel himself.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Lupin nodded. "Positive."

Snape gave the statue another appraising glance. Then he produced his wand from inside his robes, and tapped it lightly against the Angel's shoulder

"Reveal your secrets," he spoke.

Nothing happened. The Angel continued to be perfectly still.

"This Boggart is far more than it seems," said Snape. "It would appear to have abilities it does not want us to see."

"We need to clear this floor immediately," said Lupin, and for once, Snape agreed with him.

"Stay here," he said to Lupin, and started walking towards the door.

"Severus," said Lupin, turning around to Snape's retreating form, and away from the Angel. "Make sure you -"

The was a rush of wind, and the end of Lupin's sentence never came. Snape, almost at the door, turned back to him.

"Make sure I what?" he asked.

But Lupin had vanished. And once again, the Angel was in a completely different position. Somehow, the statue had turned away from the window, its head was thrown off to the side, and it covered its face with the back of its hands, as if in deep despair.

Snape gave it a guarded look. It was an awful lot of movement for a piece of stone in an awfully short amount of time.

"…Lupin?" he called, unsurprised when he didn't receive a reply.

Nevertheless, he gave the staffroom a quick once-over, looking for any sign of his colleague. When he turned back to the statue, it wasn't covering its face anymore. It had turned towards him, and now two narrowed stone eyebrows were bridgingdown on a pair of gray, lifeless eyes, and they were glaring right at Severus Snape.

Snape was momentarily taken aback, but then he produced his wand again, and started walking towards the statue, unafraid.

The door behind him slammed shut with such a great bang that Snape's head turned towards it on instinct. He felt a hand clutch at the hair on the back of his head, and then he was pulled out of Hogwarts and time itself.

* * *

It had been hours since Harry had entered the Hospital Wing in a rotten mood, and been promptly told by Madam Pompfrey that he was to sit himself down and stay there until told otherwise, by orders of Professor Dumbledore himself.

So he did. He sat himself down, head full of worry and anger, and tried to figure out what he was going to do. But then something odd began to play out in front of him.

It started after he'd been in the Hospital Wing for no more than an hour, Professor McGonagall had appeared and asked Madam Pompfrey if she had seen any sign of Professor Lupin or Professor Snape. Madam Pompfrey had not, and McGonagall left. Not long after, she was back again, asking the same question, and receiving the same answer. When she returned a third time, Harry knew something was wrong.

Professor McGonagall had taken Madam Pompfrey into her office so they could speak without being overheard by Harry, and when they emerged ten minutes later, both seemed edgy, and trying extra hard not to appear so. For the rest of his stay there, teachers continued to come in and have private chats, and Harry couldn't help feeling they were updating the Matron on the situation that was unfolding.

This did nothing to calm Harry's fears. As if the thought of an Angel being in the same building as him wasn't enough, his mind was now overrun with thoughts of the havoc it could be causing inside the castle. Had it attacked Lupin and Snape? Had it attacked any students? What if it had gotten to Ron and Hermione? What if the Angel had found them, and their argument in the corridor was the last words he'd ever speak to either of them?

On that thought, he refused to sit idly by any longer. He jumped to his feet and headed for the door, when Professor McGonagall suddenly entered through it.

"Potter," she said. "You will come with me, now."

"Where?" asked Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak to you at once."

Hogwarts, he thought as he was led through the halls by Professor McGonagall, felt as though it was on high alert. The corridors were full of teachers. Some were opening doors, having a quick look inside, then closing them again; Some were advising (without ordering) students to return to their common rooms; and some of them simply stood around the castle, as if on guard. He looked to Professor McGonagall, and couldn't shake the feeling she wasn't just leading him to Dumbledore's office, but escorting him also.

The portraits of past Hogwarts Headmasters were watching Harry keenly as he entered the room, and they weren't the only ones. From behind his desk, Professor Dumbledore looked up at Harry, and motioned to the chair in front of him.

"Take a seat, please, Harry," he said.

Harry did as he was told. There was an uneasy silence in the room; the eclectic collection of instruments strewn about the office were uncharacteristically quiet. As he looked at Harry, even Dumbledore's usually twinkling eyes seemed troubled through his half-moon spectacles.

"Earlier this afternoon," he said, "I sent Professor Lupin and Professor Snape to the staffroom, where the Boggart which seemed stuck in the form it intended to frighten you with, was being kept. Professor Lupin and Professor Snape are now missing, as is the Boggart."

Harry's stomach twisted. Professor Dumbledore paused, watching his reaction, then went on.

"A year ago," he said. "You were sat in that exact same chair, as I was sat in this one, and I asked you; with the safety of my staff and students threatened; if there was anything you wanted to tell me. I think subsequent events have proved that you lied to me on that day, Harry."

Harry felt a stab of guilt at the memory, and Dumbledore again let his words hang in the air for a moment. Then, he leaned forward in his chair, his blue eyes gazing into Harry's.

"Today, I am going to ask you that same question again, and I hope that you will not make the same mistake twice. Harry, is there anything you would like to tell me?"

This time, Harry didn't hesitate. He didn't worry about being thought a fool, or a nutcase. If the Angel was back, and people were going missing, Hogwarts would need all the help it could get.

"Yes, sir," said Harry, his voice cracking as he did. "The Angel, I mean the Boggart, I mean what the Boggart changed into…" He took a deep breath, and steadied himself. Dumbledore waited patiently. "When I was little, I was out one day with my Aunt, and there was this statue. It attacked me, sir, tried to kill me. It was like nothing I've ever seen in my entire life, magic or otherwise. It was like it could only move when I wasn't looking at it, and it was so fast that if I blinked, even if I just blinked… Sir, I barely escaped alive, and when I saw that message on the wall yesterday - "

"The event came flooding back," Dumbledore finished. "Meaning the Boggart didn't have to search very long to find a form suitable enough to scare you."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. "I'm so sorry, sir, I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid you'd - "

Dumbledore held up a hand, stopping Harry instantly. "Do not apologise Harry, I understand completely. What matters is you are telling me now."

"If it's back, sir, if the Angel is lose in Hogwarts - "

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted again, "I do not know what has happened to Professor Lupin and Professor Snape, nor do I know why the Boggart froze in the image of your greatest fear. But what I do know is that Hogwarts is protected by many powerful enchantments. Nothing can enter these walls unless it is allowed to do so. Whatever it may look like, the Boggart is still a Boggart, this I am sure of. And I promise you I will take care of this."

Harry thought about arguing, thought about asking him to shut the whole school down until they found it, but instead he merely nodded half-heartedly.

"Now," said Dumbledore. "Can I trust you to return to Gryffindor Tower, and remain there until this situation is resolved?"

Harry forced a smile onto his face.

"Yes, sir," he lied.

* * *

"He's right, you know," said Ron.

Hermione looked up from her work at him, sitting in the armchair across from her and twiddling Harry's wand in his hand restlessly.

"Harry," Ron clarified. "About the Angel. What are the chances of a message appearing on a wall about it, the day before a Boggart turns into one?"

Hermione nodded sadly. "I know. But it still doesn't mean he can cast stunning spells in the middle of a packed class." Ron looked away, though she could see the guilt nagging at his features. "We did the right thing, Ron" she said softly.

Ron turned his eyes back to the unfamiliar wand between his fingers. He looked over to Hermione, and huffed when he saw what was sitting on her lap.

"I thought you said that was nothing?"

Hermione turned her own attention back to the tattered book, whose secrets she was still trying to uncover. "What I can read of it is," she replied.

"Meaning?" asked Ron, grateful for the change of subject.

"This book is old," said Hermione. "Very, very old. Some of the words have faded, and I'm trying to bring them back. Maybe then I can work out what this has all been about."

She picked up her wand and brought it to the torn and discoloured pages, tapping it against the bits where words had faded away after centuries spent collecting dust in the Hogwarts library. She muttered complicated spells beyond her years, and gradually some of the letters started to reappear.

Ron sighed as he watched her.

"Haven't we had enough conspiracy theories for one week? Is it really not possible that maybe the reasons that book was left under your name are perfectly innocent and mundane?"

"Yes," said Hermione lightly. "Very possible indeed. Doesn't change the fact that I'd still like to know them." Ron rolled his eyes and gave up. "Anyway," she went on. "From what I've recovered so far, it's not looking likely I'm going to find out what those reasons were any time soon. Most of this stuff is just creepy and nonsensical."

"How d'you mean?"

"Well, listen to this," she said, holding the book up to her face and reading aloud from a passage she had just salvaged. "_What if we had ideas that could think for themselves? What if one day our dreams no longer needed us? When these things occur and are held to be true, the time will be upon us. The time of…"_

"…the time of what?" asked Ron, slightly spooked.

"Don't know," said Hermione with a sigh. "That last bit it is all worn away. Hang on." She put the book back in her lap and brought her wand to it again. "It's weird," she said as she worked. "There are words, like this one, throughout the whole book that seem somehow more resistant to the '_Reparo_' spell than others; almost as though they're trying to remain hidden."

Ron gave the book a wary once-over.

"Be careful, Hermione," he said. "Remember what happened to Ginny last year. If that thing's thinking for itself, make sure it doesn't try and think for you as well."

Hermione had stopped listening, concentrating instead on making sure she was performing the spell correctly. She furrowed her brow and focused her mind, willing with all her might until slowly the faded ink returned, fresh as the day it was printed.

Hermione had to read it several times to make sure she wasn't seeing things.

"…Angels," she said.

Ron looked at her in alarm. "What?"

"Angels. That's the missing word. _The time will be upon us. The time of Angels_."

"But…" Ron stuttered, sitting up in his chair. "That's impossible. That can't really be about…"

"Angels," said Hermione again. She was rifling backwards through the book, where all the aged-away words had returned, and they all said the same thing. "Angels, Angels, Angels. Ron, this whole book, it's all about the Angel!" Before Ron could even reply, she remembered something else. "Hang on. What was that bit yesterday, the bit about images that I couldn't read properly?"

She started searching through the book again, with Ron watching on. When she found it, her heart cringed.

"What?" asked Ron worriedly "Hermione, what is it?"

"Oh, Ron," she said, without taking her eyes from the book. "We're all in terrible danger."

* * *

Harry couldn't help it. He disobeyed Dumbledore's orders, and instead of going straight back to the common room, he headed for the second floor corridor. He didn't know what he expected to accomplish, or what he expected to find. He only knew that he had to see it again.

The second floor was deserted when he reached it. It was starting to turn dark, meaning the teachers now had an excuse to send the students back to the safety of their common rooms. Harry walked silently along the corridor until he found it.

The message on the wall was shining, despite the fact that there was no source of light to be giving it that reflective glow. As he studied them, Harry couldn't fight the feeling that there was something mischievous about the words, as though they were staring right back at him, delighting in the questions upon questions they had brought about.

"_Beware the Weeping Angels, love from the Doctor_," Harry read aloud, staring at the author's name, twinkling in the darkness. "Doctor who?" he asked.

The second the words left his mouth, Harry felt a light breeze on the back of his neck. He whirled around, but there was no one there. He could still feel it, though, air blowing against his cheeks like it was being gently pushed out of the way to make room for something else. Soon, this breeze from nowhere was joined by a noise from nowhere, and one Harry had heard before. It was the strange, unexplainable grinding noise.

Harry looked all around, in search of whatever was causing it, but it seemed to be coming from every direction at once. Hard to hear at first, but getting steadily louder. And as it did so, Harry felt the stone floor beneath his feet start to rumble again.

The grinding noise climbed higher and higher, wheezing and groaning, gasping and spluttering, refusing to be held back, forcing through whatever barrier that tried to restrain it. Eventually, the noise didn't seem so scattered anymore. Harry was able to pinpoint it as coming from directly in front of the message.

He gazed at the spot with wide eyes. The noise became deafening, the breeze turned into wind, forcing him backwards. The castle started to shake, more pieces of brick fell from the damaged wall. Bright sparks appeared out of nowhere, lighting up the hallway as they fizzed in and out of life. But strangest of all, was that just for the tiniest of seconds, Harry could swear he could see the ghost of a large blue object standing in front of him.

Before he could even determine what he was seeing, he was thrown sideways by a great tremor that struck the entire castle. The grinding noise stopped instantly, like it had ran face first into a brick wall, and the hallway was silent again.

Harry steadied himself. He could hear commotion in the distance, as people reacted to the second earthquake in as many days. Not wanting to be found here, nor wanting to stick around to see what other dangerous phenomena took place, he ran. He ran as fast as he could out of the corridor, and was just about at the Gryffindor common room when he almost collided with Ron and Hermione.

"Woah!" said Ron, stopping Harry with two hands on his shoulders.

"What are you two doing here?" Harry asked in shock.

"Looking for you," said Hermione. "Harry, it's the book!"

"The what?"

"The book," Ron repeated. "The thousand year old library book left for Hermione."

"What about it?" Harry asked, completely lost.

"It's about the Angels," said Hermione. "The whole thing. It's a book about the Weeping Angels!"

Harry looked at the battered book in her hands. "Angel_s_?" he said, emphasising the plural.

"They're a whole race," said Ron. "They've been around for centuries. This book is one big warning about them."

"But, Harry," said Hermione urgently, thrusting the book into his hands. "Look at this bit."

Harry read the passage she pointed out, and his face fell. "But that means…"

"…if the Boggart took on the image of an Angel to try and scare you…" said Hermione.

"…then it's not a Boggart anymore." Ron finished.

Harry looked at the book again, reading aloud the passage that sealed their fate.

"_That which holds the image of an Angel, becomes itself an Angel._"


	5. Chapter 5

**(A.N) Right. Super-long wait between chapters, I know. Sorry about that. Number of reasons; started a new job, tried to focus on writing some non-fanfiction stuff, generally procrastinated, etc.**

**Anyway, I'm back now. Hi!**

**Here's Chapter 5:**

* * *

There were three children in a dark hallway. They had an old and damaged book in their hands. They spoke in frantic, frightened voices, and unbeknownst to them, they were being watched.

At the end of the hall, lurking in the shadows, was the Angel. Not a single one of the children's gazes was directed at it. It was completely unobserved, and as a result, it could rip all three of them out of time and space whenever it pleased. Or, if it preferred, it could snap their necks in two and let them fall to the cold, stone floor in a heap. There was so much power in this place, so much potential energy to feed on, that an old fashioned killing would do no harm. There was no need to gorge.

Nor was there any need to rush. For the moment, the Angel was content to hang back, shrouded in the darkness, and watch on in amusement. After all, it was the Angel itself the children were speaking of.

"So it is an angel then?" asked the spectacled boy. "A real, proper angel?"

"And its loose in Hogwarts," replied freckled boy.

"Harry, we need to show this to Professor Dumbledore right away," said the clever girl. "If this book is right, the Angel could have already attacked people inside the castle… Harry, what's wrong?"

The eyes behind the boy's glasses had fluttered shut in a moment of woeful understanding.

"It already has attacked people," he breathed. "Lupin and Snape. They're missing, Dumbledore told me."

"Maybe it's not too late." said the freckled boy, trying to inject some optimism into the conversation. "We've got the book now, maybe we can save them?"

The spectacled boy shook his head. "No," he said. "They're gone."

"How d'you know?" asked the freckled boy.

But the spectacled boy didn't answer. Instead, he tightened his grip on the book in his hands, and when he spoke again it was in a firm and fierce voice. "We've got to get this to Dumbledore. It's our only weapon."

The Angel heard the denial in the boys words - he was not an unintelligent child. He knew they were all dead, but he wouldn't burden his friends with that knowledge, nor would he give up until the very end. And this amused the Angel even further. At least for a few seconds, anyway. Until those empty grey eyes fell upon the book that the child placed his only shred of hope in.

That book was wrong. The Angel could feel it, radiating from its covers and burning in the air. This book was ancient and before its time. It had existed for hundred of years and hadn't been written yet. It was right where it should be and completely out of place.

The Angel had seen enough. Fun and games were over. It was time to die.

It began to move down the hall, towards the children. The flames inside the torches that hung on the walls struggled and went out as it passed, creating more darkness for it to hide in, more room to get that little bit closer, until it was ready to strike. The Angel stretched out its claw-like fingers, preparing them to lash out and clutch in the blink of an eye. The children were oblivious. The torches that gave them their only protection were going out one by one, and they didn't even see. The Angle closed the distance until it was only a few feet away, and then stopped.

It felt something.

Somewhere inside these old stone walls, there was a mind. A mind so old, and so brilliant. Almost as brilliant as the mind the Angel was doing everything it could to keep out of these stone walls. And if that was true, then perhaps it posed just as big a threat.

The children could wait, have an hour or two more, and die their deaths later. For now, the Angel focused on locating this new target, and left the hallway.

* * *

In his office, Professor Dumbledore stood by the window, watching the rain crash against the glass. Night had fallen, and some might say it had brought with it a thick fog, but Professor Dumbledore knew the night probably had little to do with it. That was the work of Hogwart's newly appointed guards.

The was a soft knock at his office door, and he heard it open behind him.

"No luck, Albus," said Professor McGonagall sadly. "No sign of Remus, Severus or the Boggart."

Dumbledore nodded, releasing a deep and reluctant breath. Then he turned away from the window and walked over to his desk, where he picked up a long cloak and draped it around himself, and placed a large wizard's hat upon his head. Professor McGonagall watched, fully aware of what he was doing and where he was going, and feeling a chill just at the thought.

"I suppose it would be useless to ask if you'd like me to accompany you?" she asked.

Dumbledore merely smiled in response, tying the cloak tight around his waist as he prepared to brave the weather.

"Do you think they'll be able to help?" said Professor McGonagall.

"I can only hope," said Dumbledore. "Being born blind makes the Dementors very sentient. They feel presences on a level we do not. If there is a particularly malevolent force inside Hogwarts, I expect they'll be able to locate it for us."

"And if they can't?"

"Then the children will be sent home," he said plainly. "If there is something here that poses a threat we cannot protect them from, then I cannot allow the school to remain open until we find it. And we have searched the school as best we can with the students inside it. The only way to be any more thorough is to empty the castle."

Professor Dumbledore gave her a warm smile, noting that it was likely to be the last warm thing he'd do for a while, given where he was going and who he was going to see.

"I'll wait here, Albus," she said kindly.

He tipped his hat and walked to the door. Professor McGonagall had to ask:

"Do you think they're still alive, Albus?"

"I cannot say, Minerva," Dumbledore answered truthfully. "All I can do, once again, is hope."

Leaving his office, Dumbledore soon found himself stepping out into the corridor and began making his way towards the staircase. Fairly quickly, he noticed that the torches lining the hallway behind him were going out. Unsettling, to say the least, yet Dumbledore did not turn around. Instead, he simply carried on down the deserted stone corridor, humming as he approached the door that led to the stairs.

Unfortunately, it was just as he reached this door that, without an accompanying breeze or other rational cause, it swung closed. The was a small _click_, and Dumbledore assumed the door was now locked.

"Ah," he said. "I was rather hoping you would do that."

He turned from the door and looked back the way he had came, which was by now covered in darkness, the only remaining torches being on either side of the spot in which the Headmaster's feet were planted.

"A conversation with Dementors is a very unpleasant experience," he explained. "I'd very much like to avoid one unless it is completely necessary, which, thanks to your arrival, it no longer is!"

Dumbledore smiled as he stared into the darkness. Although there were no footsteps and it was impossible to see anything in the shadows, he knew that whatever else was in the hallway with him was moving, and it was moving towards him.

"Now, then," he said. "To business. I would like you to tell me the whereabouts of Professor Snape and Professor Lupin, and afterwards I think it would be best for everyone if you left this school at once."

There was no answer from the other end of the hall. The torches on either side of Dumbledore started to flicker.

"I cannot allow my students or my staff to be threatened," said Dumbledore, the pleasant tone fading from his voice. "And if you will not leave of your own accord, please know that you will be forced out."

The flames inside the torches danced wildly. For a second they went out completely, only to return to life just as fast. But in that briefest of seconds, a face had appeared at the edge of the darkness, and Dumbledore found himself staring at a pair of seething stone eyes that burned into him.

Dumbledore calmly produced his wand and held it out at towards the Angel.

"I think it is time for you to take your leave," he said.

The torches died again. Dumbledore momentarily saw the Angel's face contort into one of pure rage. When the torches breathed fire again, the corridor was empty.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione raced through the castle, keeping keen eyes out for any sign of the Angel. When they reached the floor Dumbledore's office was situated on, they found it flooded with exactly who they had been hoping to avoid: teachers. Nevertheless, they ran forward anyway.

"Professor McGonagall!" said Harry, running towards his Transfiguration teacher.

McGonagall looked up sharply.

"What are you three doing outside of Gryffindor common room?" she asked. "Go back there at once."

"No, Professor, you don't understand - " said Hermione.

"We need to speak to Professor Dumbledore," said Harry.

Professor McGonagall seemed to stiffen at his words. She glanced around, and for the first time Harry noticed the tension in the hallway. The teachers seemed to be inspecting every inch of the floor, from Dumbledore's office, right down to the staircase.

"I'm afraid that's not possible at the moment, Potter," Professor McGonagall recovered. "Now as I've said - "

"No, really though, Professor." Harry pressed. "We need to see him right now."

"And I have just told you that that is not possible!" said Professor McGonagall, beginning to lose her temper.

"But its important!" Ron cried.

"Look, Professor," tried Hermione. "We have this book, and - "

"_Enough!_" Professor McGonagall cut them off. "I am ordering you to return to your common room this instant, and if I catch you outside of it again you will all find yourselves in detention for the rest of this term."

"What?" Ron shouted. "That's completely unfair!"

"Professor, please," said Hermione. "Just listen to us for one second."

"Oh, God…" came Harry's voice, drawing everyone's attention.

He was gazing around the corridor, a look of terrible realisation falling across his face.

"Professor," he said, turning back to McGonagall with a pleading look. "What did you mean when you said it wasn't possible for me to speak with Professor Dumbledore?"

McGonagall looked at him silently. After a second, she averted her eyes, and Harry knew what had happened.

"Professor Flitwick," said Professor McGonagall, walking over to the Charms teacher. "Please escort these three back to Gryffindor Tower and see that they stay there."

While she turned away, Hermione and Ron looked to Harry.

"What?" asked Ron. "Harry, what is it?"

Harry's voice was entirely devoid of hope.

"It's taken Dumbledore," he said.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was noisy, the rest of the students happily chatting away. Some of them were whispering about Harry Potter's mental break-down in the staff room earlier that day, and others were still swapping theories about the message on the wall.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat by the fireplace, and for the longest time neither of them spoke a word.

"What do we do?" asked Ron finally. "We can't just sit here and do nothing, or it'll just kill us all off, one by one. So what do we do?"

Harry, slouched in his chair and eyeing the roaring fire in front of him, weakly shook his head.

"There's nothing we can do." he said. "Dumbledore's gone, and if he couldn't stop this, we certainly can't."

"Stop that!" Ron snapped suddenly. "You never give up. Not in the Chamber, not with the Philosophers' Stone, not when You-Know-Who's wants to kill you, not when Sirius Black's after you. Never! What's so different about this time?"

Harry glared at him.

"This thing has taken and in all likelihood killed _Albus __Dumbledore_. What would you like me to do, Ron? I've got nothing! I don't even know where to start!"

"The second floor corridor," said Hermione, joining the conversation for the first time. Previously, she'd again been studying the battered library book in her lap, but now she had closed it and was looking, remarkably, and unlike her friends, calm.

Harry and Ron glanced at her.

"What?" asked Harry.

"The message on the wall," she replied. "We need to go there. Now."

"…Why?" asked Ron, wondering if he'd missed something.

"Because it's a warning. And so is this book, only we didn't know that right away. But we were given two warnings about the Angel on the same day. Both of them sitting right here in Hogwarts, completely unnoticed, for hundreds of years. I think its safe to assume they come from the exact same person."

Twinkling words on the ancient and crumbling wall shone in Harry's mind.

"The Doctor," he said.

Hermione nodded.

"This book wasn't just old, its words hadn't just faded. They'd been hidden. I had to bring them back. Maybe there's something else written on that wall that needs to be brought back too?"

"Yeah," said Ron, picking the book out of Hermione's lap. "Maybe there's a whole load of stuff we can't see, like there was in this!"

"Maybe, yeah," said Harry sceptically. "But we can't know for sure."

"You just said it yourself, Harry," said Hermione. "What else do we have? It's our only lead." She got to her feet, and Ron followed. "We'll need your invisibility cloak."

Harry stayed seated. He looked at them, standing there ready to follow him to hell and back, like always. But this time was different.

"If we go out there, it might find us," he said, doing his best to convey how horrific that would be. "You don't understand. You don't know what its like to just stand there, looking at it. When you're so terrified all you want to do is cover your face and look away, but you know that the second you do it will _kill __you_. You feel it coming, you know that you can't hold it off forever, sooner or later you _are_ going to blink, and when you do…"

Ron and Hermione stayed where they were. No hesitation crossed their face, they showed no signs of second thoughts. And then Hermione nodded slightly.

"Yes, Harry. But if we let it get to us, then the Angel's won."

Perhaps it was hearing his own words spoken back to him, perhaps it was a desire not to disappoint Ron and Hermione, but in no time at all, Harry was throwing his invisibility cloak around the three of them, and slipping out of the portrait hole.

They moved through the castle in silence, and with difficulty, as Harry insisted Ron walk backwards beneath the cloak so that the Angel would not be able to sneak up behind them should they cross its path.

Finally, they arrived on the second floor corridor. Hermione threw the cloak off and immediately approached the broken wall, producing both her wand and the mysterious book, which she held up to the wall to compare. Ron and Harry hung back. They watched the hastily scribbled words twinkle in the moonlight, and despite the fact that they now considered it a warning from someone who seemed to be doing all they could to help them, both boys couldn't help but feel cautious to get any closer.

"Is it just me," Ron started, taking a step forward against his better judgement. "Or does anyone else find this message just as creepy as a stone angel who kills you when you blink?"

Harry gave him a brief look of contempt, though he didn't disagree. "It's like 'the Doctor' - or whoever wrote this - knew the trouble it would cause. And he took great pleasure in it."

"Yeah!" Ron said. "When you look at it, it's like…"

Ron stopped, and quickly looked behind himself, staring down the hallway.

"What?" asked Harry quickly.

"I thought I heard something."

They both raised their wands and watched for movement, but saw none. The only thing moving in the hallway were the torches hung on the walls, which flittered in the breeze.

"Nothing," Ron sighed, lowering his wand. "Sorry. Bit jumpy."

Harry kept his wand pointing down the corridor for a few seconds longer than Ron, but eventually joined him in turning their attention back to Hermione.

"Anything?" Ron asked her.

"Not yet," said Hermione. She stood up on her tip-toes to run her wand over the highest point where the old wall had been exposed. "It was all very well bringing words back in the book, they were only ever going to be on the page. But if anything's hidden on this wall it could be anywhere."

"We'll help," said Harry, stepping forward with his wand. But a second later, and he and Ron were again pointing their wands towards the other end of the hall.

"I definitely heard something that time!" said Ron.

"I did too." Harry replied.

"What was it?" said Hermione tensely.

"Sounded like wind," said Ron. "Like a breeze came through, or someone blew out a…" Two torches at the end of the corridor suddenly went out. "…uh-oh."

For a second, they stayed as they were. Wide-eyed, breath caught in their throat, Ron and Harry pointing wands with unsteady hands, Hermione behind them clutching the library book.

Then, two more sets of torches were blown out in quick succession, Hermione drew her wand, and all three of them cried, _"__Lumos!__"_ . Brilliant white light burst out of their wands and lit up the entire hallway, revealing a Weeping Angel standing at the end of the corridor.

Ron and Hermione gasped, Harry's heart dropped; the Angel stood perfectly still.

"Do - _Not_ - Blink!" Harry whispered. "Don't turn away, not even for a second. It _will_ get you. It's that fast."

"What do we do?" asked Ron, who could already feel his eyes getting tired.

"We've got to go," said Hermione, trying to keep her voice steady. "You saw what happened in the staff room, Harry cast a dozen spells at it and they had no effect. We've got no choice, we've got to run."

"How can we run away if we can't take our eyes off of it?" Ron countered angrily.

"Just stay calm, both of you," said Harry. "There's three of us, okay? That's three sets of eyes, we can't all blink at once. As long we can see it, it can't hurt us."

On cue, another set of torches went out.

"Or we could try Hermione's method," Harry quickly amended. "And run like hell."

"But how - " Ron started.

"Just - just stay there a second," said Harry, and he took off in the opposite direction, leaving Hermione and Ron next to the broken wall, gazing at the Angel with eyes full of fear. Harry ran as fast as he could towards the door that led out of the hallway, examining it as he approached. It looked big enough, maybe if they could back their way out of the corridor, the Angel wouldn't be able to get through?

Suddenly he knew exactly how big of a door it was, because he watched it throw itself closed. The massive slamming noise made Hermione turn her head towards Harry.

"Look at it!" Harry shouted at her. "Keep looking at it!"

She did as she was told, while Harry raced to the door. He pulled on the handle, but the door wouldn't open. He placed his foot on the wall and heaved with all his might, but it didn't even budge.

"It's locked!" he cried.

"It can't be!" said Hermione, forcing herself not to turn and look for herself. "We've just come through it."

"Hermione, I'm telling you, it's locked."

Hermione bit her lip. "Ron, stay here, keep looking at it!"

"No, Hermione don't!" Ron called, but she was already running to Harry's side.

She tugged on the handle herself, and when that didn't work she tapped her wand against it.

"_Alohamora.__"_ she said. The spell had no effect. "_Alohamora!__" _she said again desperately.

"Hurry up!" came Ron's strangled voice. "I can't hold on!"

Both of them immediately gave up and ran back to Ron's side.

"Why won't it open?" he asked them.

"It's the Angel," said Harry. "I don't know how, but its locked the door."

"But it can't just -"

Hermione's words were cut off by their wands going dark without warning. They each reacted quickly enough, with three cries of _"__Lumos!__" _echoing in the hallway instantly. But the tiny moment of utter darkness had been enough for the Angel to jump up the corridor, and now it was just a few feet away from them, bent over forwards as if stuck mid-lunge.

"How did it do that?" asked Hermione, her brave front starting to crumble. "Why is magic not working against it?"

"I've got no idea," said Harry gravely.

"The cloak," Ron gasped next to him.

"Aren't you listening?" Harry snapped. "Magic isn't working, it could probably see right through us."

"No," said Ron. "I know that. I'm not talking about us, I'm talking about the Angel."

Without thinking, all of them dropped their gazes to the floor, where, at almost the exact mid-point between them and the Angel, Harry's invisibility cloak lay on the floor where they had dropped it.

The Angel lunged again. With yells of shock, they locked their eyes back on the statue.

"Why didn't it get us?" asked Hermione.

"Because it's not trying to get to us," said Ron. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. It wants the cloak!"

Harry's stomach twisted. He realised now that the Angel hadn't thrown its body forwards to reach them, it was reaching down to pick up the cloak.

"If you can only move when you can't be seen," Ron explained. "You'd probably find an invisibility cloak very useful!"

The Angel was only an inch away. If they made a mistake again, it would have the cloak and Hogwarts would be doomed.

"Right then," said Hermione after a brief silence, her voice sounding both determined and terrified. "You two keep your eyes on it, and I'll get the cloak."

"Hermione, no!" cried Ron and Harry in unison.

"I have to, so just keep looking at it," she said. They felt her moving past them towards the Angel, but were unable to look. "Just… don't blink, okay?"

She moved as fast as her trembling legs would go, which wasn't very fast at all. She kept her glowing wand out in front of her at all times, and fixed her eyes firmly on the Angel, whose own gaze was aimed at the cloak it was so close to grabbing. With Ron and Harry watching in excruciating silence, Hermione carefully bent down and retrieved it. Scared beyond belief, she was back at Harry and Ron's side in an instant. But the moment she had taken the cloak out from under the Angel, their wand-light had begun to blink. First weakly, then with increasing frequency.

"What's happening?" Ron shouted.

"_Lumos!__"_ said Hermione, shaking her wand and willing it to stay alight.

With a _whoosh!_ every flaming torch in the corridor was extinguished, leaving their rapidly failing wands as their only protection.

"Move!" Harry yelled, backing away to put as much distance as possible between them and the Angel.

Their wands began to flicker so much that the corridor was being thrown in and out of complete darkness. Between blackouts, they watched in horror as the Angel stood up straight and started coming towards them, stone-fangs bared.

They backed down to the very end of the hall, and Hermione and Ron began to pull on the door handle again. Harry didn't. He just watched, as their wands struggled to stay alive, and as the Angel got closer and closer.

"Open!" Ron was shouting. "Just open!"

"I'm sorry," Hermione sobbed. "We should never have came here, I'm so sorry!"

Again, Harry did nothing. Just stood, with his back against the wall, as the Angel closed the last bit of distance between them, and waited for what had been coming for eight years.

Harry waited to die.

But before that happened, their was an earthshaking explosion at the other end of the corridor. Right in front of the scribbled message, blindingly bright sparks had erupted out of nowhere. Hermione and Ron stopped, so did the Angel.

Because they could all hear it. A wheezing, groaning, mechanical grinding noise. A light appeared out of nowhere, like a lamp hanging in the air, and it brought with it a ghostly transparent blue mist, which became increasingly solid-looking as the grinding noise climbed steadily louder.

Their wands stopped blinking. The Angel had more pressing matters.

Because when the grinding noise died away, there was a large, wooden, blue box standing in front of the message. Harry, Ron and Hermione gazed open-mouthed at it.

A door on the front of the box creaked open. Light burst out of it, and after so much darkness Harry's eyes took a few seconds to adjust. When they did, he saw a man standing outside of the box.

His hands were on his hips. His hair was all over the place. He was wearing a bow tie.

"Finally!" said the man in an exasperated voice. "You would not _believe _the trouble I've had getting here!"


	6. Chapter 6

**(A.N.) Hello there. Been a while, eh? Deepest apologies about that. Lots of reasons, mostly boring so I won't bother getting into them. After all, I've made people wait this long, so I won't make them wait any further! **

**Here's the next chapter:**

* * *

If the man in the bow tie found anything odd about three schoolchildren cornered in a dark hallway by a Weeping Angel, he didn't let it show. He simply closed the door to his box behind him and started strolling forwards, ranting as he went.

"No, no, seriously. I mean it," he said, his fringe flying everywhere and his hands dancing wildly as he tried to convey his annoyance. "See this box? Gets in anywhere. No building in the entire known Universe can keep it out. I materialised this box on the Security Deck of _The __Admiral __Tholtrich_. I landed this box on top of a Regulation Zebra prison ship, whilst it was in warp. This box got me a seat next to Brangelina at the Oscars. And yet, one teeny-tiny little castle in the wilderness of Scotland - if Scotland has anything _other_ than wilderness- and I can't seem to get through. Now I find that strange. Does anybody else find that strange?"

He'd reached the end of the hall now, where Harry, Ron and Hermione were gaping at him, while the Angel's hand remained inches from their throats. Again, the man saw this plainly - his gaze even lingered for a second on the stone hand trying to snatch at their larynxes - but still he continued to talk.

"And don't give me that rubbish about magical enchantments. Because with all due respect, the TARDIS eats magical enchantments for breakfast. Figuratively speaking, of course. It doesn't eat breakfast. It's a Type 40 TARDIS, and they stopped giving TARDISes mouths after that council member's Type 12 tried to take his arm off."

While Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged mystified glances, the man shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels for a few seconds. Then he gasped, as if pretending to notice the Angel for the first time.

"Oh, hello Mr Angel!" he said, his brow furrowing as soon as the words left his mouth. "…Mrs Angel? Do you have genders? I've never asked. Regardless, what a coincidence! Here I am, talking about some sort of massively powerful entity, capable of stopping a TARDIS materialising inside an old, stone castle, and look who I just so happen to find. Small universe, eh?"

The Angel, obviously, did not react or turn to face the man. So instead, he squeezed his way around to where Harry, Ron and Hermione were huddled in fear, and leant casually against the wall, throwing his arm around both the Angel and the trio.

"So what brings you to Hogwarts then, Non-gender specific Angel? I myself come for the views. Land the TARDIS on top of the North Tower on a summer's morning and look towards the mountains: breathtaking! Can't beat it. Also the Giant Squid owes me a tenner." He turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Word of advice, never play blackjack with the giant squid. He cheats."

He wiggled his fingers to signify the squid's many limbs, tapped his nose covertly, and turned back to the Angel.

"How about you Mr or Mrs Angel? Come to brush up on your Divination? 'Mars is bright tonight' and all that, eh? Maybe you just dropped by to catch a game of Quidditch? Oh, I love Quidditch! The sticks, the goals, the ice, the pucks!"

"You're getting confused with hockey." Harry blurted.

"No, I'm not, you are," said the man curtly. "Doesn't matter, anyway, does it Unisex Angel? Because if your reasons for being here were really so harmless, you wouldn't have been straining your masonry to try and keep me out. Which, it has to be said, does not make you look very innocent. It doesn't paint you in a very good light, does it? Oh, what's the phrase I'm looking for?" He stepped off the wall and leaned in close, whispering in the Angel's ear, "It doesn't… _reflect _very well on you."

The trio's wands started to flicker again, as did the light on top of the blue box. The man jumped back from the Angel instantly, finally looking as though he understood the severity of the situation.

"Right, then. Harry, Ron and Hermione: into the box, if you please."

"Sorry, what?" said Hermione.

"The box," the man clarified. "Big blue Police Box down the hall. In you get."

The three schoolchildren looked at one another with uncertainty.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. The man looked at him like he was insane.

"Seriously? Big, scary stone Angel seconds away from killing you where you stand, and you're wondering if the strange bloke's blue box is a dangerous move?"

"Fair point," said Ron and without further convincing he ran forward, grabbing Hermione's hand and Harry's sleeve as he manoeuvred around the Angel.

"Why is he giving us orders?" asked Hermione as she was dragged towards the box.

"Why are we following them?" Harry added.

The man waited until all three were safely inside his box, before grinning at the Angel.

"Well, congratulations are in order," he said quietly. "They said it couldn't be done, and you've done it. Bravo. Now leave this castle. Go and tell all your stone friends what you've done while you still can. Because if you stay here and try and do what you've came here to do, then I promise I'll do everything in my power to make sure no one ever hears about the Angel who made it into Hogwarts."

The Angel's grey face remained unchanged, but the light continued to hover on the edge of going out. The man took a deep breath, prepared himself, then ran as fast as his legs would take him towards his box. He heard movement behind, stone feet pounding into the stone floor. He dived the last few feet, landing flat on his back on the floor of the TARDIS, and kicking the blue doors closed behind him. No sooner had they closed when the wooden doors shook thunderously as the Angel hit them, a second too late.

"Ha!" said the man, staggering to his feet, doubled over and out of breath. He looked up to smile at his new companions only to find two of them staring at their new surroundings with hanging jaws. "Ah," he said. "Right, probably should have mentioned, always forget…"

"It's bigger on the inside," said a stunned Harry, while Hermione simply clutched her pounding head.

Ron however, seemed less impressed. "So's my Dad's camping tent," he said, frowning at his friend's reactions. "What's the big deal?"

"Oh," the man huffed, looking at Ron with deepest annoyance. "See, that is why you people aren't allowed in here, because you've just got to go and ruin it, don't you? You're just a big fat… ruiner!"

Ron stared at the man with wide eyes, shocked by the outburst. Before he had the chance to form an apology, the man had stormed off, up the set of stairs in front of the doors and onto the vast glass-floored platform that housed a console full of things not unlike the sort found in Professor Dumbledore's office; there were dozens of fascinating instruments of various functions, some of them ancient and some brand new. There was a large column in the centre of the console that stretched up to the ceiling, and contained a blown-glass ornament that seemed to groan as it slowly hovered up and down.

Their awe-filled examination of the machine was cut short by the sound of the man tripping on something as he made his way to the console.

"Oh for the love of…" he said through clenched teeth, as he held up the offending article - a pair of luminous pink tights that had been laying on the floor. "How many times? 'Pond, old clothes in laundry room', 'Rory, stop leaving pot noodles on the stairs', 'Pond, I got up in the night to go the toilet and nearly ended up regenerating because I tripped on your tights and fell down two flights of stairs'!"

"Excuse me?" said Harry carefully. "Listen, thanks for, you know, saving our lives and all that but… who are you talking to exactly?"

The man waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no one. Old friends. Former passengers. Used to travel with me. Now they live in a house. And they think I'm dead." The man gave the tights a quiet look, then threw them aside lazily and turned back to his new guests. "Anyway! You three, you've probably got questions, yes? And I suppose I'll have to answer them. Well, we've got time, the Angel will be hiding away planning it's next move. So let's move somewhere a bit more comfortable, eh?"

The students in Gryffindor common room stopped what they were doing, as they all became aware of a peculiar noise getting louder and louder, closely followed by a big blue box appearing out of nowhere in the far corner of the room. The panic they felt when a strange man stepped out of it and beamed at them soon passed when Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger stepped out after him.

"Always have to make an entrance," some people mumbled, and then went back to their business.

"Look at this!" the man yelled, grinning madly as he surveyed the room. "Gryffindor Common Room! In all her red and gold glory! Speaking of which, count yourselves lucky; originally it was going to be lavender and coffee-brown! I said to him, I said 'Godric, look, they're lovely colours, but they're just not you.'"

"What the bloody hell are you on about?" asked Ron, his patience with their bizarre saviour wearing thin. "Godric who?"

The man rolled his eyes. "Godric Gryffindor, of course. Who else?"

"Oh, right," laughed Ron sarcastically. "Because you knew Godric Gryffindor, did you?"

"Oh, I don't think anyone really _knew_ Godric," the man replied, dropping into the plush armchair he'd landed his box next to. "He was a very closed-off sort of person, kept himself to himself. But Helga Hufflepuff! Now, there was a woman who could drink you under the table and still have enough wits about her to have your back when the inevitable bar fight broke out!"

"Shut up!" said Hermione suddenly. Her hair was almost as chaotic as the bowtie-man's was, and she too had reached her limit. "Just stop talking for one second, and tell us who you are!"

"What do you mean, tell you who I am?" said the man, puzzled. "You should know exactly who I am." He turned to Harry. "Didn't you see my message?"

Harry staredat him. "…_you__'__re_ the Doctor?" he asked incredulously.

The man bowed, and pretended to tip an invisible hat. The trio just stared at him, until Ron collapsed into the opposite armchair.

"We're dead," he announced.

"Yes, well, thank you Mr Positive!" said the Doctor. "No need to introduce yourselves of course. Ron Weasley, the pleasure is all mine, and may I say what a fine head of hair you have." Ron ran a self-conscious hand through his ginger hair. The Doctor turned to Harry. "The famous Harry Potter, at long last. Hardest thing I've ever done, staying away from you. And this…" He jumped from his seat and ran over to a bewildered Hermione, bending slightly so his twinkling eyes were level with hers. "…must be Miss Hermione Granger." He gave her a blindingly bright smile, reaching for her hand and shaking it vigorously. "Can I just say, you've always been my favourite!"

"…thank you?" said Hermione.

"Did you get my book, Hermione?" the Doctor asked. "What did you think of it? Bit slow in the middle, wasn't it? Didn't you hate his girlfriend?"

"You made the library request, then?" she replied. The Doctor bowed again in response. "But… _how?_ How on earth did you leave request a library book for me a thousand years ago."

"Not easily, trust me," said the Doctor. "First I had to find the blasted thing! Searched the TARDIS upside-down till I came across it in the sauna - don't even ask me how it got there - then the library made me fill out _forms_!"

"No!" Hermione interrupted, feeling dizzy as she struggled to keep up with the nonsense coming out of the Doctor's mouth. "I mean, how did you do that a thousand years ago?"

"Oh," said the Doctor, his face falling with disappointment. "Haven't you worked that out yet? You of all people should have worked that out by now."

Hermione just stared back at him, baffled. As a hint, the Doctor started making _tick-tock_ noises with his tongue.

"You're a time traveller!" said Hermione.

"What?" said Ron. "No,hang on, wait! On top of everything, he travels in time now, does he?"

"Think about it, Ron" said Hermione, suddenly uncomfortable under the Doctor's gaze. "The book left in the library a thousand years ago, with instructions to be given to me on the same day all of this started? The message written under the only wall to suffer damage during the storm? How else do you explain it?"

Ron considered this for a moment.

"Alright," he concluded. "It does make some sort of crazy sense. But come on! Time Travel?"

"I know!" said the Doctor. "Preposterous, isn't it?" He smirked, and gave Hermione a subtle wink.

"Right," said Harry slowly. "Let's get this straight. The message on the wall…"

The Doctor smiled. "Me."

"The library book…"

The Doctor again nodded. "Me."

"What about the voice on the radio?"

"Me," said the Doctor, only to amend himself straight afterwards. "Well not this me, an old me."

Harry's grasped his temples in frustration. "Stop it," he snapped. "You're not making sense. You said you'd give us answers, so give us them. What is the Angel? Where did it come from? What does it want here? What does it want with me?"

The Doctor looked at him, completely unperturbed by his shouting. He glanced around the common room again, gazing at the students doing homework, playing chess, gossiping by the fire. Then he laughed, quietly and somewhat wistfully.

"The Weeping Angels," he said with a small smile. "Creepy name. Where I come from, we used to call them the Lonely Assassins. But the Eternals, the Eternals had the best name for them - the Eternals had the best name for everything - the Eternals called them The One Constant.

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"Because one day, this castle will no longer be here," said the Doctor, his tone turning harsh. "Might not be today, might not be tomorrow, but sooner or later, it's bricks will fall. It's inevitable. We'll all fall one day. Everything that begins must also end. Everything that lives must all die. Except the Angels. Look back, throughout history, since the beginning of the universe itself. They've been here. They have no known planet of origin, they're just seem to be everywhere, on every world. Look closely, and you'll find them. Lurking in the background. In plain sight, yet forever unseen. Waiting, just waiting for that one perfect moment to strike. They don't die, they can't be killed, the only way I every got rid of a few was to wipe them out of time itself. They just keep living. They just keep appearing. They will not stop. They have been here since the beginning and they will be here at the end.

"But nothing can survive the end of the universe," replied Hermione, while Ron and Harry had been lost since the mention of 'Eternals'.

The Doctor gave her a grin. "The Angels' very existence negates impossibility."

"Okay." Ron cut in. "So the Angels are bad, we get it. But how did you even know one was here? How did you know to warn us?

"Funny story," said the Doctor. "I was in Rome, in 2002, and this silly woman wanted me to pay for a cup of tea. Well I don't carry money, and I was gasping for a cuppa, and I remembered the Giant Squid owed me some money. So I thought I'd drop in, collect it, and shoot back to Rome before the tea got cold. Only I couldn't. Someone had placed a massive temporal restraining field around Hogwarts. A block on this castle, spread through time, keeping my ship from landing. Every time I got close I'd just get pushed back even harder.

"The earthquakes?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Me butting heads with the restraining field," the Doctor confirmed. "Didn't take me long to work out what was going on. The list of things able to produce a temporal block of that size is a short one, the list of things that would want to produce one around Hogwarts has only one name on it: The Weeping Angels. I knew I had to warn you, but the earliest I could land was before Hogwarts had even been built."

"And this is when you met Godric Gryffindor, is it?" said Ron sardonically.

The Doctor didn't catch his implication, and instead nodded enthusiastically. "I met the lot, the Four Founders! I helped them build this place."

"Right!" Ron laughed, "Well, that's a lovely story, Doc, but a little bit of - whatdoyoucallit… proof! - would be fantastic."

The Doctor briefly gave him an insulted gaze, but then turned his attention to looking around the common room thoughtfully. Finally, his eyes landed on the large fireplace on the other side of the room. He ran over to it, with the trio following behind. When he reached it, he produced a bronze object from his jacket, which glowed green at the end and gave off a funny noise when he pointed it at one of the stone slates under the fireplace's mantelpiece. Then he put the bronze thing away, and began trying to heave the slate off of the wall. After a few seconds of pulling and strained cries of difficulty, the slate finally came away.

"There!" said the Doctor, out of breath. "How's that for proof?"

On the dirty old wall which the slate had been covering, were a few scribbled words, much like the one on the second floor corridor. However, these ones were not quite so haunting. They read:

_Dear Godric. _

_Fireplace almost done. Followed your blueprints initially, then got bored and started building it my way. I think it looks much better. Need more slates, though, kept dropping/smashing them. Me and Helga will finish it in the morning. Going for a drink now, promise to try and keep her out of trouble this time. _

_The Doctor _

_xxx. _

_P.S. Ran into an old blackjack buddy. Lovely fella. Told him he could live in your lake. Hope that's okay._

Ron, Harry and Hermione stared at the scribbling with utter amazement.

"Lovely lot, the Founders," said the Doctor. "Let me leave a note on their wall and a book in the library, and all I had to do in return was some odd jobs around this place. And a fine job I did, too. How's the toilets on the second floor?"

"Broken," said Ron.

"Damn," replied the Doctor.

"What about the radio?" said Harry, getting back on topic.

"Tried to send you a voice message," said the Doctor. "To tell you exactly what you were up against. But nothing I recorded was able to get through the Angel's defences. Somehow, the Angel knew what my current voice sounded like. So I sent an old recording, one the Angel didn't recognise. I had to edit it a bit, but it had worked once, so I thought it was worth a go."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other for moment. Though the Doctor gave off a very distinct 'This man will talk nonsense'-type vibe, it was impossible to deny that everything he said seemed to fit. While they silently conversed, the Doctor rocked on his heels again, smiling brightly.

"Everyone getting it?" he asked. "Good. See, it's not so complicated, really, is it?"

"Oh, no, it's a piece of cake!" said Ron, again collapsing into the armchair.

"Wait," said Hermione. "So we know why you're here. What about the Angel?"

The Doctor frowned at the depressing change of subject, but reluctantly answered her.

"The Weeping Angels are creatures of the abstract, they live off potential energy."

"What does that mean?" asked Hermione, intrigued.

"Every thought, every decision you make, it's a choice. You either choose one thing or the other. There's a infinite amount of alternate timelines just waiting to happen, all they need is the decision that creates them. See, the Angels don't kill people, per se. They take people out of time. They remove them from their own decision and dump them in the past, when all the decisions have already been made, and then they absorb all the power from those infinite timelines that never were. They take a person's potential and they make it their own."

"And use it for what?" said Hermione, slightly enthralled by the Doctor's words.

"To take what they want."

"And what do they want?" she asked.

"Everything," said the Doctor ominously, stepping in close to Hermione till his dark eyes were only inches from hers. "They want everything. They want this castle, they want this world, they want every hair on your head, Hermione Granger. They want the sun, and the stars, and the sky, and they won't stop until they've got the power to take it!"

These words hung in the air for a second, a tense silence falling between them, until Harry finally spoke up.

"And that's what the Angel's come for?" he said. "Me? My potential energy?" He gave Ron and Hermione a short, awkward glance. "Let's not beat around the bush. If my past is any indication, who knows what my future could hold."

The Doctor smiled at Harry again, quite similar to how Dumbledore and Lupin would smile at him; brimming with deep admiration and respect.

"Harry Potter," said the Doctor. "The boy who lived. You'll do great things, Harry Potter. Great things. But with all do respect, you're chopped liver compared to what the Angel's actually here for."

Harry stared at him, taken aback. "What?"

"Where did you first meet the Angel?" asked the Doctor. "You must have had a previous encounter for it to be able to pull the Boggart trick. Tell me about it."

"It was nothing," said Harry, perplexed. "It corned me in an empty shop alleyway when I was 8."

"But it didn't kill you," the Doctor replied. "It could have killed you, quite easily. But it didn't. It needed you alive. See, the Angels have been trying to get into Hogwarts for centuries. But the enchantments placed around the grounds are immensely powerful. A TARDIS might be able to get through but it's just about the only uninvited thing that can. Anything dark, evil or dangerous, like an Angel, that's what the spells are there for. But those clever old Lonely Assassins. I suppose one was always going to stumble upon a loophole."

"What," said Ron. "Scaring the daylights out of Harry?"

"Scaring him so much he'd think of an Angel if he ever saw a Boggart," said Hermione, her mind finally beginning to fill in all the blanks. "That was the way in. The Angel had to make sure a Boggart took on its image, because the enchantments can't keep out what's already inside."

"Exactly," said the Doctor. "Couldn't have put it better myself. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"So what do they want?" said Ron, still confused. "If they've been trying to break in here for hundreds of years, and not to get at Harry, then what?"

Hermione didn't have that answer, neither did Harry. The three of them turned to the Doctor again, who sighed in response

"Come on, you lot, you're cleverer than this! Hermione? Ron? Harry, you surely must be able to work this one out." When it became clear neither of the three Gryffindors had the answer, he sighed again, and obliged. "Do you know what has the most potential out of anything in the entire universe? The human brain. All those thoughts, and wants, and ideas. All those pictures and scenarios you create from your own dreams, and nightmares. And desires. The Angels know this, they've spent eternity trying to get their hands on that potential. But they can't just rip the brain from the body, because it would stop working. Hasn't stopped them trying, mind you."

"What does this have to with Hogwarts?" said Ron impatiently.

"It has everything to do with Hogwarts," the Doctor replied. "Because Hogwarts is home to the power of the human brain, the power of desire, made physical."

He stopped, and turned his impossibly enigmatic eyes on Harry, watching and waiting for him to figure it out. Harry searched his mind for the answer, seeing as the Doctor was obviously implying he already knew. But in three years at Hogwarts, he couldn't think of a single thing he'd come across with that sort of power. Until the Doctor dropped his final hint.

"_Men have wasted away before it…_" he said.

And Harry realised. Realised what the Angel had come looking for, and realised what the consequences would be if it succeeded.

"…The Mirror of Erised!"

* * *

**(A.N.) Right, hope that was worth the wait. Just want to say, I do try my hardest to reply to every review I get. But when I posted the last chapter, for some reason the website wouldn't allow me to do Review Replies, so I only ended up being able to reply to about half of you lovely people who leave reviews. So if you left one and didn't get a reply, I promise I wasn't ignoring you! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**(A.N.) The Author makes no attempt to apologise for the leaving of such a gaping abyss between chapters, knowing such a gesture is futile by this point. Instead, he simply turns his heavy eyes upon the date of the last update, which reads: "3rd February, 2012". The Author throws his head back and, in his best Liz Lemon impersonation, cries into the night"_Blerg!_"**

**In all seriousness: My bad. Here's Chapter 7...**

* * *

The storm had left puddles on the floor of the Astronomy tower. For the last half hour since the storm had worn off, they had been sitting silently, motionless. But now, they started to ripple.

A peculiar, wheezing, groaning noise cut through the still night air, and a blue box gradually appeared at the top of the tower.

The TARDIS doors swung open, and a breathless Hermione Granger stuck her head out.

"So we travel through the dimensions…"

The Doctor bounded out of the box.

"…and end up here!" he finished for her, extending his hand for her to take as she too stepped out of the TARDIS and onto the stone floor.

Next out of the box was a sullen-faced Ron, who made a sarcastic whistling noise.

"Ooh, we've moved through time and space - magic!"

He was followed by a quiet Harry, who, while not sharing Ron's resentment for everything the Doctor said or did, was nevertheless not happy that the man they were placing their trust in seemed to be taking the situation so lightly. Because it wasn't a time for laughing, as Harry couldn't stop telling himself. It really wasn't.

"Look," said Ron. "Your box is great and everything, Doctor, but I'm still not sure I even understand what's going on. There's still questions you haven't answered."

The Doctor let go of Hermione's hand (noticing that that was where Ron's glare seemed to be directed) and placed his hands in his pockets, smiling pleasantly.

"Like what?"

"For starters, how exactly can the Angel conquer the universe with a mirror?"

"Oh, Ron," the Doctor groaned, "You're cleverer that that, come on! It's not just any mirror. It's a mirror filled to the brim with magic specifically meant to create images of people's deepest desires. And Angels, as they've already proven once today, have a special talent for taking images and making them their own. If the Angel absorbs the power from the mirror it will have the ability to make anything it pictures in it's twisted, sadistic cesspool of a mind a reality."

"And what would it picture?" asked Harry, speaking up now that they were back to serious business and not watching the Doctor give Hermione a crash-course on how every button and lever on the TARDIS console worked. "What would the Angel's deepest desire be?"

"I don't even want to imagine," said the Doctor, shivering slightly at the thought. "But if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say something evil."

"But it's a mirror!" said Ron. "If the Angel looks into it, it'll be looking at itself and it won't be able to move. Shouldn't we just let the Angel find it?"

The Doctor gaped at him for a second, then began clapping his hands wildly.

"Ding, ding, ding!" he sang. "Congratulations, Ron Weasley, for 'Worst Idea In History'! The Angel is not a fool. It's not going to look directly into the mirror. And even if it did, we'd then have another image of an Angel, so if someone ever moved the first one from looking at it's reflection, we'd have two Lonely Assassins running about Hogwarts."

"What about this, then" asked Hermione, holding up the invisibility cloak that the Doctor had insisted they bring. "The Angel seemed very upset when we stopped it getting a hold of this. Is it part of the plan?"

The Doctor took the cloak from her and ran his fingers through the material.

"Probably not," he said. "Probably didn't even know such things existed until it saw this in the corridor. But if the Angel gets hold of this our problem goes from bad to worse." He walked over to the TARDIS, opened the doors, and flung the cloak inside. "It'll be safe in here, for now."

"And if the Angel gets inside the TARDIS?" asked Ron dryly.

"Then our problem goes from bad to apocalyptic," replied the Doctor curtly. "So then, is that it? Everyone done with the questions, can we move on now? Lovely."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the Doctor had already spun around on his heels and skipped off down the spiral staircase of the tower.

"Doctor! What about the Angel?" said Harry following after him. "Won't it be looking for the mirror too by now?"

"Of course it will. But don't worry, students and staff should all be in bed by now, and it won't start looking in the dormitories for at least another hour or so."

"Right," said Harry. "Sorry, but I was more worried about _us_ running into the Angel."

The Doctor came to a sudden halt on the steps, almost causing a pileup between Harry, Ron and Hermione who were doing their best to keep up with him on the narrow staircase. After stopping, the Doctor turned and gave Harry a strange, and almost puzzled look. But it soon passed, and he returned to flying down the stairs.

"The Angel is extremely clever but also extremely impatient. It will probably be checking all the obvious places. The Great Hall, Dumbledore's office, the Dungeons - where normal people would hide something important, not where Dumbledore would. Ron and Hermione, this goes for you too: try to stay clear of those places and if we're lucky we won't cross it's path."

"And if we're not lucky?" Harry prodded again.

The Doctor simply threw him a grin over his shoulder.

"Don't blink."

They had reached the end of the staircase and the door that led to the rest of the castle, which the Doctor held open for Harry and Hermione to pass through. When Ron tried to walk through it however, the Doctor closed it in front of him, leaving just the two of them in the tower.

"We appear to have gotten off on the wrong foot," he said to Ron. "I'm sensing a bit of hostility, which is really a shame because we'd get on great if you give me a chance."

"Because you know me so well?" replied Ron, unimpressed.

"I know you feel trapped in other people's shadows," the Doctor countered, which gained him Ron's full attention. "Trust me, it won't always be like that. You, Ron Weasley, are going to do things no one will ever forget. People will write songs about you. They'll name pubs after you. Just… believe in yourself, eh?"

To that, Ron didn't quite know what to say, but he allowed the Doctor to pat him kindly on the shoulder. He then reached for the door, but stopped again.

"Also," he said, with a mischievous grin this time. "Don't worry so much. She's yours."

Ron felt his cheeks go red and he spluttered in response. "Wh-what? What are you talking about?"

The Doctor winked. "Time-traveller, remember? Trust me on that one."

Harry and Hermione waited patiently for the Doctor and Ron to join them, noticing Ron's slightly blank smile when they finally did.

"Come on, you lot," said the Doctor, carrying on down the hallway. "We've got us a Weeping Angel to catch!"

"Doctor?" said Hermione, who had walked over to an open window.

"Look, I know we all still have questions, but we really need to get moving."

"No, but, Doctor," she said again.

"Me showing up will have thrown a wrench in the plan and got the Angel worried. It will have spent the last hour looking for anything powerful to feed on, so we need to move quickly before it gets too powerful."

"But, Doctor - it's warm."

The Doctor, Ron and Harry looked at her strangely.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's warm," she repeated, gazing out of the window towards the school entrance. "And it's clear. It's a warm, clear night."

The Doctor looked at his watch on the underside of his wrist. "It's September. A warm, clear night is not a strange occurrence."

"It is in Hogwarts," said Harry, realising what Hermione had noticed. "Lately anyway."

"The Dementors," said Ron, and soon all four of them were standing around the window.

"You can usually see them, hanging around the gates," Hermione pointed. "But look, they're not there. Doctor… where could they have gone?"

"Dementors," said the Doctor hoarsely. "They're blind, aren't they."

"Yes," said Hermione, then instantly clapped a hand over her mouth.

"What?" said Ron urgently.

"The Angel," said the Doctor, "against an army of extremely dark, extremely powerful, extremely _blind_ creatures. No contest. I think Hogwarts might have to find itself some new guards."

"Taking a whole army of Dementors," said Ron. "How powerful would that make the Angel?"

The Doctor didn't answer. He gave a last look to the now guard-less entrance gates, then set off down the hallway.

"Let's go," he said.

* * *

The Doctor pushed his back against the wall and peered around the corner, brandishing a bronze, metallic object which cast a luminous green light down the empty hallway.

"Clear," he said in hushed voice. He turned the corner and hurried forwards.

"Do you even know where you're going?" Harry asked, trailing behind and speaking in an equally low voice.

He had not been a fan of the Doctor's idea to split up; to send Ron and Hermione to check under the trap door in the third floor corridor - the last place the mirror had actually been seen - while he and Harry journeyed down to the Chamber of Secrets ("Where a ruddy big snake sat unnoticed for hundreds of years. That might have given Dumbledore an idea," as the Doctor put it). Talking sense to the Doctor might have been useless, but Harry could at least ensure they were actually moving in the right direction, even if he didn't want to say anything that might result in him leading the way down the dark, and potentially Angel-infested hallway.

"Of course I do," the Doctor replied. "I did help build this place, after all."

"Yes, and Salazar Slytherin managed to sneak in a secret chamber and a basilisk without you realising."

"Oh, for the last time - I took a tea break! He told me it was a roll of carpet for the teacher's lounge!"

"_Sshh_!" Harry hissed at the Doctor's dangerously high voice.

They stood in silence, listening for any noise or rumblings in the distance, any sign that they had been heard, but none came.

"Sorry," said the Doctor, and they resumed their tip-toeing down the hall, at first without speaking, though that was until the Doctor suddenly said, "So…"

"…so what?" replied Harry.

"Are you going to be alright, back in the Chamber? It might bring back some bad memories."

"Yes," said Harry defensively, though he had to admit he had been quietly reliving that night as they crept closer to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "Well, no. But don't worry, I'll be fine."

The Doctor gave a hushed chuckle.

"You'll be more than fine, Harry Potter. You were 12 years old and you had to fight a snake you couldn't see and Lord Voldermort himself. And you only went and won, didn't you?"

"You say his name," Harry noticed.

"Yes, I do. But please don't think me daring, I just have issues with names hidden by fear - long story. Anyway, that's beside the point."

"You had a point?"

"Yes," the Doctor nodded. "You. Harry Potter. The boy who lived. Except people keep trying to change that. You're thirteen years old and you've been in more near-death situations than most people are in a lifetime."

"But something tells me not as many as you," Harry quipped, though mainly to try and lighten a conversation that was becoming more personal than he was comfortable with.

"No, as it happens. But again, that's not my point."

"Which point is this, again?"

"Were you frightened, Harry?" The Doctor stopped walking and turned to Harry, looking at him curiously. "In the Chamber, I mean. Against Voldermort, and the basilisk - were you scared?"

"Of course I was," said Harry cagily, the green glow of the Doctor's bronze object shining in his face.

"Were you though? Or were you angry? Were you fighting a snake that wanted to kill your best friend's sister, and the man that murdered your parents, and that distracted you from any real fear?"

"What does this have to do with the Angel?"

"It has everything to do with the Angel. What about with the Philosopher's Stone? Were you afraid, going through that trap door? Or did you just want to stop Snape with every bone in your body that you didn't even think about what might happen to you?"

Harry's grip on his wand tightened and he glared at the Doctor dangerously.

"For someone I've never met you seem to know an awful lot about me."

"I'm the Doctor, I know everything about everyone, and you really must stop getting away from the point."

"Well then tell me what your stupid point is!" yelled Harry angrily.

There was a noise at the end of the hall that made them both jump. The Doctor pointed the light in his hands in the direction of the noise, revealing an open doorway and a clutter of shiny objects spilling out of it - the source of the noise.

Harry let out a very audible sigh of relief, and the Doctor turned to him, eyebrow raised. He looked to Harry's wand hand, which had not shot out in the direction of the noise, but sat lamely by his side. The Doctor looked at him.

"You look frightened tonight, Harry Potter."

Harry stared back, at a loss of how to reply. But the Doctor didn't give him a chance to anyhow, turning and advancing upon the door where the noise had come from. When they reached it, the Doctor used his foot to carefully push it open, and entered inside.

"What is this?" asked the Doctor

"It used to be the Trophy room," said Harry.

He had used past tense, because it had certainly looked better the last time he was here. The room was a mess. The cabinets had been smashed to pieces, and various plaques, shields and cups had been tossed all over the place.

"It didn't find what it was looking for," Harry guessed.

"No," said the Doctor. "And it's starting to get cross. What?"

He had noticed Harry staring at the wall, where a plaque that had a dagger pinned across it hung crookedly.

"Nothing," he said. "It's just, I'm sure they're used to be two daggers there."

* * *

After ten minutes of biting her tongue, Hermione finally snapped when they reached the staircase that led to the third floor.

"Oh, just spit it out Ron!"

Ron, who she had seen open his mouth to speak over an over, only to think twice and close it again, gave her an obvious look.

"Okay, I can't be the only one worried about this plan!"

"What's wrong with it?"

"It doesn't exist!" Ron cried, receiving a slap on his arm from Hermione to keep his voice down. "So let's say we find the mirror, which no one has laid eyes on for two years, and the Doctor comes to pick it up in the TARDIS - all of this assuming that the Angel doesn't get to us first - then what do we do? Tell the Angel it's failed and ask it to sod off? All I know is we're putting all our faith in a complete stranger and a plan that isn't even really a plan."

"I trust the Doctor," said Hermione plainly. "I think he knows what he's doing."

"Look, he seems lovely… No, no, back! The other way, please!" said Ron, as the staircase they had been climbing had gotten bored and attempted to swing around to lead them to another destination. At his request, though, it kindly swung back to its original place. "Thanks. Anyway, I just think - "

"The most important thing," Hermione interrupted. "Is that we get to the mirror before the Angel. Once the mirror is safe, then we'll go from there."

Ron grumbled and shook his head, but didn't argue further, and after climbing the stairs they opened the door and entered the third floor corridor.

"_Lumos_," said Hermione, her wand igniting and illuminating the walls of the empty hall.

"Still expect to see a three-headed dog every time I come through here," said Ron absentmindedly, then began, like Hermione, to search the floor for the opening of the trap door they'd all dropped through in their first year.

"Got it," said Hermione, dropping to her knees and placing her hand upon a groove in the wooden floorboards. "Right. Here goes nothing."

She started to lift up the wooden door, when suddenly Ron's foot forced it back down.

"What?" she said irritably, looking up to see him staring at the door thoughtfully.

"What did they ever do with Fluffy?" he whispered. "After they got rid of the Philosopher's Stone?"

"They set him free in the forest, didn't they?" said Hermione, though even as she said it she felt herself reaching the same conclusion Ron had.

"That's what they _said_, yeah," he replied. "But if Dumbledore did keep the mirror down there, I reckon he might have kept his guard-dog too."

Hermione's hand came away from the trap door.

"Just to be safe, I think we should get a musical instrument before we go any further."

"Might be an idea, yeah," said Ron.

"The choir room is just downstairs," said Hermione. "They might have a flute or something."

"Okay," said Ron, turning away and walking back to the staircase, leaving Hermione to roll her eyes as she pushed herself back to her feet.

"Oh, don't help me up or anything, Ron," she muttered, though loud enough for him to hear. "Just let me - "

The next thing Ron heard was a rush of wind, and a sharp, frightened intake of breath. He whirled around, and saw Hermione's hair tangled up and holding her in place, while a danger hovered inches away from her neck. Both were in the hands of the Weeping Angel.

* * *

"This place has seen better days," remarked the Doctor, his boots splashing into the big puddle of water that flowed from each of the cubicles in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He turned to the large mirror hung above the row of sinks and fixed his hair. "Right, remind me, which sink is it?"

Harry pointed to the one he was already standing in front of, trying to fight off flashbacks to the last time he'd stood in this run-down, abandoned bathroom, in front of the sink with the image of a snake ingrained in it's tap.

"Good," said the Doctor, coming to his side. "Let's get her open."

"Okay," said Harry, "Just…give me a minute."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and imagined the snake on the tap was real. He pictured it in his mind, crawling across the floor, eyes glinting in the night, tongue hissing like a rattle. He opened his mouth and…

There was a high-pitched buzzing noise, and Harry opened his eyes to see the sink moving aside to reveal the large pipe that led to the Chamber of Secrets. He turned to the Doctor, who, after a second, realised what Harry had been attempting to do and smiled apologetically.

"Sorry," he said, gesturing to his bronze-wand and smiling meekly. "Sonic Screwdriver. It's got a parselmouth setting."

Harry frowned, but stepped back and allowed the Doctor to take the lead again.

"Thank you," said the Doctor.

He placed his sonic screwdriver in his jacket, straightening his bow tie, stepped towards the pipe and simply said, "Geronimo!" Then he hopped into the pipe and flew out of sight.

Harry peered down the long tube and prepared himself for the same journey. But just before he took the plunge, he cast a glance out of the bathroom window, and hoped that Ron and Hermione were safe.

* * *

"Let her go," said Ron through gritted teeth and with his wand pointed right at the grey, emotionless eyes of the Angel.

"Why hasn't it killed me?" said Hermione unsteadily, trying her best to ignore the pain of having her hair twisted and tangled in the hand of the Angel and knowledge that a dagger was aimed right at her throat.

"It's _not _going to kill you," said Ron forcefully, looking her in the eye.

"Ron you're not looking at it!" she said, and Ron's eyes quickly snapped back to the statue. "And you weren't looking at it before, either. You had your back turned. It could have killed me, but it didn't. Why?" She tried to think, which was difficult given that her usually quick-mind was rapidly overflowing with terror, but she didn't wonder for very long. "It's using me."

"What?" said Ron, fighting the urge to look at her again.

"The dagger, it's a threat. It wants you to tell it where the mirror is."

Ron's eyes unintentionally flicked down to the blade of the dagger, held in the Angel's other hand but close enough that a swift slashing motion would take it right below Hermione's jaw.

"I don't know," he said, looking back to the Angel and desperately trying to convince it. "I don't know where it is. I can't help you, so just let her go!"

They waited for a response, any response. Any sign that the Angel understood. But nothing happened. The Angel remained deadly still, hand still wrapped in Hermione's long brown locks.

"I told you, I don't know where it is!" Ron shouted. "Why doesn't it believe me?"

If he would have been able to take his own eyes off of the Angel, he would see that Hermione's had fluttered closed.

"I think it does believe you," she said quietly.

"So why hasn't it let you go?"

"It can't let me go. Not with you looking at it."

"But if I stop looking it might…" He stopped mid-sentence, as though his mouth refused to even say the words.

"Ron," said Hermione, opening her eyes and looking at him. "You have to go."

"…_what?_"

"You have to take your eyes away and go," she said, her voice threatening to break at any moment. "There's nothing you can do, so just go."

"Hermione, I'm not going anywhere!" he yelled, looking at the Angel so fiercely he hoped it might burst into flames.

"Ron you have to!" she yelled back, stamping on the floor in frustration. When she did, however, she realised where they were standing, and where the Angel was not. "Oh," she gasped. "Ron, quick! Close your eyes."

"Stop it," he said, his own attempts to remain brave gradually crumbling. "I'm not leaving, there's nothing you can say that will make me leave you."

Hermione clenched her jaw, fearing the Angel would realise what she was doing any second.

"Ron, you've got to trust me, here. Really, properly trust me."

"I'm not going, and that's that."

"Ron, please…"

"Hermione I am _not_ letting it kill you!"

"_Oh, for goodness sake, Ronald!_"

A number of things happened in the next split second: Hermione raised her hands in front of Ron's face and smacked them together loudly. Ron, instinctively, flinched and his eyes flew shut. The Angel, unobserved, let go of Hermione's hair and swung the dagger towards her throat. Whilst her hands had collided in Ron's face, however, Hermione had used her feet to open the trap door upon which both she and Ron stood, and the Angel was standing just off of. So when the Angel's dagger cut through the air, all it severed where a few strands of Hermione's hair as the two Gryffindors dropped through the trap door below.

Hermione threw her wand behind her as she plummeted into darkness, screaming a spell that was lost in the rushing wind and terrified wails of Ron beside her. The result, however, was that the trap door above them closed itself, and locked. An amazing feat of magic, and one she might have taken pride in, if she had not found herself smacking into cold, hard concrete a second afterwards. Hermione had not considered that Dumbledore may have removed the Devil's Snare once it was not longer needed.

They both gave great yelps of pain upon impact, and then lay there briefly, in silence.

"Oww," Ron moaned, sounding to Hermione like his face was mostly pressed against the floor.

"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly.

"No," he answered casually. "How about you?"

"Same," she said, and couldn't fight nor explain the laugh that escaped her.

"Why," Ron groaned, as he struggled to a seated position, "didn't you just tell me you were planning on doing that?"

She sat up also, and since it was so dark she couldn't see him, she looked at where she could hear his voice.

"The Angel isn't deaf, Ron. It's not stupid, either. It might have worked out what I was doing if we'd waited any longer. Why didn't _you_ just blink when I told you to?"

"Because I thought you - !"

She never heard the end of that sentence. Ron's voice simply flittered away, and they were left staring into darkness at each other.

"Why hasn't it come after us?" Ron asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"It doesn't have the time," she said. "_Lumos_." She pointed her now shining wand upwards, where they could see the trap door, still very much closed. "The Doctor and Harry weren't with us. It must know they're still out there looking for the mirror."

"Or maybe it's waiting for us to come out?"

"Maybe," she said, turning to him now that she could see his face. "Either way, unless we find the mirror down here, Harry and the Doctor are on their own now."

* * *

The Doctor had helped Harry to his feet after he flew out of the pipe-slide. They jumped over the fallen rocks and moved quickly through the tunnel, and before Harry knew it the Doctor was sonicing open two large stone doors, and he once again stood in the Chamber of Secrets.

The Doctor burst into the massive hall and instantly ran off to the sides, scanning with his screwdriver and feeling parts of the wall and the serpent-covered pillars for anything that might conceal a very magical mirror. Harry entered slowly. Almost unwillingly. It hadn't changed in the slightest since he was last here. Even from the other end of the Chamber, he could see the spot of dried blood he knew to be his own, next to the ink stain that had spewed out of Riddle's diary in it's final moments. But, of course, the thing that most caught his eye was the enormous basilisk corpse running nearly the entire length of the Chamber.

The Doctor, finishing examining one side of the room and running over to the other, nearly tripped over the giant snake. He quickly regained his balance though, and gave the basilisk a second glance.

"Oof. He was a big fella, wasn't he?" he mused, giving the snake a quick nudge with his foot to check for a response, before switching his attention back to the hunt.

Harry frowned at him.

"I noticed," he grumbled, subconsciously rubbing his left arm.

"Are you going to help or what?" asked the Doctor.

Harry sighed, but ran over to join him. Together they searched every inch of the Chamber, even working together to roll the basilisk over to check for any hidden openings underneath it. But even this resulted in frustration.

"Blast!" said the Doctor, looking for a second like he wanted to kick the snake but restraining himself. He placed his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. "I really hoped it would be down here."

"Ron and Hermione are still looking," said Harry with badly forced optimism. "They might find it under the third floor."

The Doctor shrugged.

"Maybe," he muttered, running hand through his untamed hair, and dropping himself down upon the basilisk as if it were a park bench. Harry didn't question this though, too bothered about his sudden lack of enthusiasm; something the Doctor had had in spades up until this point.

"We have to find this mirror," he felt the need to remind him. "We _have_ to."

The Doctor looked up from his boots at him, saw the desperation on Harry's face, and shot to his feet.

"Yes, we do." he said, and then looked at Harry solemnly. "And we don't have time to search this castle top to bottom. The next place we go has to be where the mirror is. So think, Harry! If we were Dumbledore, where would we hide it?"

"If we don't want to waste time, we probably shouldn't try and think like Dumbledore, that won't get us anywhere."

"Why?"

"Because Dumbledore's a genius. A true, proper genius. But he's also completely barmy."

The Doctor looked to have a retort on the tip of his tongue, but it never came. Instead, he looked away from Harry thoughtfully, his eyes flying all over the chamber as though connecting invisible dots. Then he let out a strangled cry of joy and turned back to Harry with a grin almost as wide as the basilisk at their feet.

"That's it! Dumbledore is barmy. He's a complete madman. An unrestrained, absolute raving lunatic!"

"Alright, steady on," Harry warned, but the Doctor didn't slow down.

"This is a man who left a giant, rabid, three-headed dog in his school for a whole year, with only a locked door between it and a castle full of students. Students who spent all day learning spells to _unlock_ said door. Dumbledore doesn't think like normal people - they're boring! - he'd have done something far more interesting with a massively powerful artefact sought after by dark wizards!"

It was only after his last sentence that Harry understood what the Doctor was getting at.

"The mirror isn't hidden!" he cried, his voice echoing across the vast Chamber.

"On the contrary, I'll bet the Mirror of Erised is right out in the open. You probably walk past it every single day!"

"But surely we'd notice," said Harry sceptically. "People would know if a mirror on the wall showed them their deepest desire on the way to Charms class?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, no, no. If Dumbledore put this somewhere in plain sight, he'd have made sure it was also unnoticeable. Tell me, Harry, where in Hogwarts are there lots of mirrors?"

"Err…" said Harry, combing his memory for any clues. "There's a few in the Entrance Hall, I think. A couple in the Teacher's lounge. Some in the Quidditch changing rooms. But apart from them the only other place you'd find a mirror would be in a…"

He looked to the Doctor, who from his face Harry knew had reached the same conclusion. They stared at each other, wide eyed and open mouthed, until they both slowly turned and looked to the entrance of the Chamber, at the tunnel that led right back to the place they had come from.

"…a bathroom." Harry finished weakly.

The run back down the tunnel and up the pipe left Harry's chest stinging, and by the time they climbed back into Moaning Myrtle's toilets he was forced to take a moment to regain his breath. The Doctor, however, instantly scrambled to his feet and began examining the large mirror above the sinks.

"Not seeing my deepest desire," he said disappointedly, eyeing his reflection. "Just a dashing man in bowtie."

"Doctor," said Harry, tugging on the sleeve of his tweed jacket. He pointed to the other end of the bathroom where, just before the row of old and mostly-broken cubicles, was another mirror. It was held against the wall by a wooden beams that didn't seem as aged or battered as the rest of the bathroom, and was in such a place that most would not even notice it, given the much larger mirror above the sinks.

Harry walked over to it, slow and cautiously, as if afraid it might jump out at him. When he reached it, he knew they had found what they were looking for, because he saw before him a sight he had quietly longed to see for two years. His mother and his father, smiling proudly at him.

He tore his eyes away from this sight and gave the wooden border a hard smack with his fist until it cracked and he was able to pull it apart, revealing an ornate golden frame, and an inscription that read _'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'_.

"This is it, Doctor," said Harry, feeling the Doctor come to stand next to him but returning his gaze to his long lost parents, who both had an encouraging hand placed on his shoulders. "Definitely. The Mirror of Erised."

"Excellent," said the Doctor, though rather stiffly. "We'll just do this then, shall we?"

The sight of his parents was taken away from him, as the Doctor reached out turned the mirror around to face the wall.

"What did you do that for?" Harry asked, finally turning and seeing the Doctor wasn't looking at the mirror at all.

"Told you earlier," the Doctor replied. "I don't want the Angel's reflection to come to life."

"The Angel?"

"Yes," said the Doctor, nodding in the direction he was facing. "It's here, in the doorway. Sorry, did I not mention that?"

* * *

_End of Chapter Seven_

* * *

**(A.N.) I know this doesn't have anything to do with anything, but I'm going to say it anyway. If you haven't already, go see The Avengers. And if you have seen it, do what I did, and go again. Twice. :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**(A.N.) It's the end. But the moment has been prepared for...**

* * *

Harry's head whipped around to face the doorway. Just as the Doctor said, the Weeping Angel was standing in the narrow entrance to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom; half covered by shadows, half illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows at the other end of the room. The Angel's face was calm, blank almost, and it's hands hung harmlessly at it's side. This was perhaps even more horrible, and Harry found himself backing up against the mirror, less to protect it and more because it was as far away as he could get.

"How slow are you?" said the Doctor next to him. He strolled forwards, feet splashing in the puddles on the floor, until he had effectively placed himself between the Angel and Harry. (Or was that the Angel and the mirror?) "It's taken you all night to find this place? Me and Harry worked it out straight away, didn't we Harry? We haven't looked all over the castle, or down in a murky secret chamber, or anything."

Harry got the feeling the Doctor wanted him to answer, to join him in his futile attempts to stall the Angel. And Harry, to his credit, opened his mouth and tried. But all that came out a was a vague "Mmm."

"So you lose, in essence " said the Doctor. "We got here first, we have the mirror. You can go and tidy up your mess in the trophy room and leave. Oh - but for you to leave we'd have to turn our backs, and, well, that's not going to happen. So we'll leave! Oh, but you're in the doorway. We could move you, but if we get that close and happen to blink, we're dead. Hmm. Tricky."

He calmly walked back over to Harry and the Mirror (backwards, keeping his eyes on the Angel at all times).

"I suppose if you had to give anyone the advantage here, it's you. Neither of us can leave the room, and sooner or later, we are going to blink. No way out, wouldn't you say Harry?"

"None that I can see," said Harry helplessly.

"Then you disappoint me, Harry. Because you of all people should know, and never ever forget these words: There's always a way out."

He raised his screwdriver into the air, and a horrible noise cut through the bathroom, almost splitting Harry's ears. The window at the end of the room shattered into pieces.

Harry had just taken his hands away from his ears when the Doctor grabbed him by the shoulder and started pushing him across the room, past the cubicles and towards the window. Harry had grabbed the mirror on instinct, and it wasn't until he felt the window ledge against his back that the Doctor's plan finally revealed itself.

"You can't be serious."

"Only way out," said the Doctor, grinning manically.

"It's two floors!"

"Aim for the tree."

"What tree?"

"There's a tree there, trust me!"

"What about the mirror?"

The Doctor thought for a second, then, with his gaze still locked on the Angel, he reached behind him, took the mirror from Harry and heaved it out the window.

"What did you just do?" Harry yelled

"I aimed for the tree! Now you go first, I'll keep looking at the Angel."

"Doctor I really don't think - "

"Well if you'd like me to go first and leave you here with the Angel…"

Harry clenched his fists tightly and bit his tongue. Fighting common sense, he tore his eyes off the Angel, climbed onto the ledge, and flung himself out of the window and into the night.

Once Harry was gone, the Doctor stopped smiling.

"This is over," he said.

The Angel was still in the doorway. The impassive look stuck on it's face did not represent the fury the Doctor could feel from across the room. He stared back, looking for a moment as if he were going to issue further warning. But he didn't bother. He just waved, climbed onto the ledge, and jumped backwards out of the window.

"How did you know this was here?" asked Harry, when the Doctor was nestled safely in the branches of the massive oaktreehe'd never noticed.

"Easy," said the Doctor, reaching for the mirror and pulling it across the branches were it had landed. "I planted it."

"Doctor, look!"

The Doctor looked back to the window they'd both just escaped through, and saw the Angel already there, glaring down at them.

"They don't give up, do they?" the Doctor muttered. "Okay. Follow me."

To Harry's surprise, he started climbing the branches, somehow navigating his way upwards whilst clinging to the heavy mirror underneath his arm. Harry followed without question, though he did glance back to the window as they climbed.

"It's gone," he said of now empty window.

"I sincerely doubt it," the Doctor replied.

They climbed until they ran out of branches. The tip of the tree was level with the next floor, and Harry didn't even bother reasoning when he saw the Doctor point his sonic at the wall and the third-floor window broke apart.

"Filch is going to track you down and have your life," he told him, right before they both launched themselves across the short distance and back into the school.

"Here's the plan," said the Doctor, hurrying out of the empty classroom they'd landed in and into the corridor. "We get to the Astronomy Tower and get the mirror inside the TARDIS, without dying."

"Got it," Harry nodded, as they ran toward the door that led to the staircase. "And then what? Once the mirror's safe, how are you going to get the Angel out of Hogwarts."

"I'm sure I'll think of something."

"That doesn't fill me with confidence."

"Oh, just stick to the plan," said the Doctor, reaching the door and throwing it open. "All we have to do right now is get upstairs fast - it's a good plan."

They ran out into the staircase, finding the Angel at the foot of the one that led upwards.

"Abandon the plan!" cried the Doctor.

Harry fumbled for his wand. "What do we do?"

The Doctor looked around wildly. "Improvise!"

He hopped over the banister and should have fallen three floors to his death, but instead a staircase swung out of nowhere and caught him.

"Quick!" he called to Harry, who did the same.

And then they were soaring down the staircase, the Doctor heaving the mirror along with him and screaming for Harry to "Look at the Angel, look at the Angel!"

Harry threw his head over his shoulder as they ran, but soon the many torches that hung in along the walls began to flicker, and the Angel was moving.

"It's coming!"

In the nauseating alternations between light and dark, the Angel had jumped onto the same staircase, and was quickly gaining on them.

The Doctor stooped low, bringing his mouth to the banister of the staircase and whispering.

"We're going to need some help, old friends,"

In response, the staircase immediately changed course, intercepting with another that had also flung itself forwards. The Doctor dived from one staircase to the next, Harry following. But the Angel could play that game too, and the three of them soon found themselves in a chaotic race - jumping from staircase to staircase, evading the Angel's reaching claws at the last possible second.

The staircases were flying at them from all angles to provide escapes, and any staircase the Angel happened to be on swung away from Harry and the Doctor. Unfortunately, those wings were not for decoration; whenever the lights flickered out and came back, the Angel would be hot on their tail. The staircases were taking them higher and higher, and the distances they were jumping were getting further and further. Even if the Angel didn't catch them, they were bound to miss-time a jump and splatter on the floor of the entrance hall sooner or later.

"This is insane," said Harry, wincing in pain after a particularly messy jump from one staircase to another. "We can't run forever."

"I'm not planning to," said the Doctor, sweating and exhausted but still clutching at the mirror and hurling himself up the steps. He cast a glance over his shoulder, to the Angel who had just landed on the same staircase. "One more jump."

The staircase swung past a landing and a doorway, and they jumped for it, both of them crashing rather than landing. Harry sat up just in time to see the Angel's face, enraged, as the staircase suddenly plummeted downwards. The Doctor staggered to his feet, pushed Harry and the mirror through the door and soniced it locked behind them.

"Quick, come on!" he said, running off.

It was only when Harry turned around that he realised they had actually made it to the Astronomy Tower. He ran after the Doctor, up the spiral staircase and to the very top level of the tower, where, crushingly, they did not find the TARDIS.

Instead, there was a portion of the tower's ledge that seemed to have been destroyed, and the size of the hole in it seemed very familiar.

The Doctor ran to the edge and looked down, seeing, way down on the grass below, the missing bricks and stones littered around the fallen TARDIS.

"This was a trap," said the Doctor in anguish.

"If the TARDIS is down there," Harry said. "And the Angel is in the stairway… Doctor, what do we do?"

The Doctor couldn't seem draw his attention away from his beloved ship, which lay pathetically on it's side in a crater of mud and earth.

"Doctor!" Harry shouted, shaking him. "_What do we do?_"

They heard a heavy hammering noise below them. The Angel was breaking down the door to the Astronomy Tower.

"It wants the mirror?" said the Doctor, suddenly focused again and very angry. "It can have whatever's left of it!"

Without warning, he lifted the mirror into the air and attempted to throw it off the roof of the tower.

"No!"

Harry grasped the edge of the golden frame and ripped it away from him.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

The Doctor tried to grab the mirror back, but Harry wouldn't let it go.

"You can't smash it!" said Harry. "It - it doesn't even belong to you!"

"Harry, it's not how I wanted things to go either, but if we can't keep the mirror from the Angel, we don't have a choice!"

Harry ran his eyes over the mirror, and tried to think of a way to make this clear to the Doctor, to explain what this mirror meant, and why he couldn't see it thrown off a tower.

"Doctor… this mirror is the only way I can ever see my - look out!"

At the last second, he'd looked towards the spiral staircase, fixing the Angel in place on the last step. The Doctor had turned to face it so quickly, Harry now had the mirror away from him.

"Harry," said the Doctor sternly, as they both aimed their gazes at the Angel. "Smash the mirror."

"There's another way, there has to be."

The Doctor made a frustrated, guttural growling, then he took out his sonic screwdriver and thrust it into the air, creating another deafening buzzing noise. Harry yelped, his eyes clenching shut as he covered his ears with his hands. The Doctor reached out and caught the mirror that he'd let go of, looking at it and laughing triumphantly. It was a short lived victory.

The second it was unobserved, the Angel threw both of them off their feet. The Doctor was sent careening into the back wall of the tower; Harry in the other direction, coming dangerously close to flying off of it completely, instead landing at the top of the staircase and then bouncing down it painfully.

"That was a very stupid idea," the Doctor admitted, pushing himself upwards, holding his arm and shoulder. Any pain he felt was forgotten, though, when he saw the sight before him.

The Angel had the mirror.

Two stone hands gripped either side of the ornate golden frame, and the Angel was gazing in wonderment at it's prize.

"Ah," said the Doctor gravely. "That's not what I wanted to happen."

Below them, Harry held a hand to the wound on his forehead. Everywhere hurt, he couldn't even bring himself to try and stand.

"Doctor?" he shouted.

"It's over, Harry," the Doctor announced miserably. "The Angel has got what it came for. We've lost. Everyone's lost. The whole universe… Or have we?"

The Doctor jumped across the room, not stopping until he and the Angel were nose-to-nose.

"Cos one thing I can't help but notice, is that I'm still here, as is Harry and Hogwarts and the sky above. Why hasn't life itself twisted into what you want it to be? Maybe you thought once you had your stony little hands on the mirror you'd be instantly invincible? Well guess what, you've still got the same Achilles heel you've always had. As long as my beady little eyes can see you, you don't exist! And the mirror can't show the desire of something that doesn't exist!"

The Doctor smirked, and he stared at the Angel with confident eyes. Then something horrible happened.

The Angel raised it's head, and stared back.

The Doctor's mouth fell open. The Angel slowly looked him up and down, titling it's head in fascination. And then, in disbelief, he watched the corners of the Angel's lips curve upwards. _The Angel was smiling at him_.

A hand shot out and wrapped around the Doctor's throat. It wasn't stone. It was flesh, skin and bone, and squeezing on the Doctor's windpipe. The Angel lifted him up off the floor and held him aloft. The Doctor spluttered and kicked, as the Angel opened it's mouth and hissed at him, before slamming him into the floor with such malice and such force that the floorboards smashed through. The Doctor dropped down to the lower level, landing painfully on the stone just across from Harry.

"Doctor," said Harry, managing to crawl to a seated position. "What's happened?"

The Doctor was flat on his back, looking up at the hole his body had made in the wood.

"It must've used the power from mirror as soon as it touched it… I - I didn't look at it fast enough… I…"

"Doctor!" Harry pleaded. "Just tell me."

The Doctor looked to him. "The Angel's deepest desire, Harry - It can move!"

Above them, the Angel threw out it's hands and unleashed a howl that echoes right across the castle grounds.

Harry's eyes were big and wide. All he do could was shake his head. The Doctor tried to get up but he stumbled and fell - his legs didn't want to take his weight. He clawed at the wall to pull himself upwards, and staggered towards the spiral staircase. He stopped at the foot of them, and looked at Harry.

"We can't stop it," Harry told him.

"We have to try, Harry."

"It had one weakness, and now that's gone. It's going to kill us all, Doctor."

The Doctor didn't know how to reply. Another voice did instead. From above, came a hideous, crawling screech; like nails being dragged along a vocal cord.

"…_dddDDoccttooorrrrrrr…"_

Harry's ears trembled at the sound. He fell limp against the wall, defeated. But the Doctor looked upwards. Despair turned to defiance and he walked up the spiral stairs without another word, alone.

The Angel was waiting for him. It was hugging the mirror to it's chest. Two massive wings were stretched out behind it proudly.

The Doctor stood silently at the top of the stairs. The Angel studied him for a moment, then started running towards him. It stopped after only a few paces, but it had gotten the reaction it was aiming for - the Doctor had stiffed in response and flinched. The Angel grinned.

"You think you've won, don't you?" said the Doctor.

The Angel's head nodded slowly - the Doctor heard the bones in it's neck creaking.

"Why?" he asked. "Because you can move now? Because you don't have to sneak up on people, or wait for them to blink before you kill them? That doesn't win you anything."

The Angel cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. The Doctor - since it hadn't jumped across the room and killed him - carried on.

"The Weeping Angels. The Lonely Assassins, the One Constant. So many names, so many people all over the Universe living in fear of you. And yet this is the first time you've ever come close to having real power, power like the kind you dream about. Do you know why that is, Angel? It's because being afraid doesn't mean you've lost. It's not a weakness, and it certainly doesn't stop you being brave."

The Angel sighed and began to look bored, but it wasn't really the one the Doctor was speaking to.

"See, there's this common misconception about bravery," said the Doctor, making sure to speak high enough for his voice to be carried down the stairs behind him. "Some people think it means fearless. They think it means picking up weapons and running head first into danger without blinking. But it's not. It's more than that. It's about being terrified, like I am right now. It's about being more scared than you've ever been, but never, ever, letting it stop you. So you can move now, whoop-de-doo. Nothing's changed. I'm not running. I'm standing here like I always am. There will always be people like me who stand up to you - scared to the bone _but still here!_ And not because I'm angry, or because I want revenge, but because it's the right thing to do."

The Angel grunted. It had heard enough. It placed the mirror down on the floor next to itself, and scowled at the Doctor. The Doctor knew what was coming next, but he moved first.

He sprinted across the room, diving for the mirror. But the Angel was too fast, it thrust itself between the mirror and the Doctor, striking out at the him with the back of it's hand. The Doctor fell to the floor, but bounced right back up, ignoring the pain.

He pulled out his sonic screwdriver. The Angel snatched it from him with impossible speed, and crushed it in front of him. It grabbed him by his shirt and threw him back against the stone ledge. He tried to get back up, but this time his legs gave out on him. From the floor, he looked up to see the Angel standing in front of him, a disgusted look on it's face. It held out it's claws for him to see, and advanced upon him.

"Wait!"

The Angel looked over it's shoulder. Harry was standing at the top of the staircase.

"I'd like a chat, if you don't mind," he said.

The Angel smirked, turning to give him it's full attention. It's pupil-less eyes roamed over him, coming to a stop on his hands, which Harry was trying with all his might to keep from shaking at his side. The Angel smiled again. It faked a lunge, as it had done with the Doctor. Harry gasped and threw his hands over his head, holding them there until he realised the Angel had barely moved toward him.

The Angel threw back it's head and erupted into what Harry assumed was laughter, but sounded more like a thousand cats being strangled.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm scared of you. Terrified, in fact. You gave me nightmares for months. Got me a week under the stairs for luring me into that alleyway. And now you can move, and I'm even more scared. But guess what? I'm not running either. I'm right here…" he swallowed nervously, "and what are you going to do about it?"

In an instant, the Angel darted across the floor and grabbed a handful of his shirt. It jerked him forwards, and Harry found himself staring right into the blank and yet somehow incensed eyes of the Angel

"O-okay, silly question," he stuttered. "Doctor?"

The Doctor was already up and once again running for the mirror, which the Angel had left unattended in the middle of the room. But just like before, the Angel was quicker. It threw Harry to the floor and grabbed the Doctor by the neck, stopping him in his tracks.

The Doctor fought relentlessly against it's grip, but the Angel held him in place with one hand and flexed the claw-like fingers of the other. It's face was a deep, severe expression of pure hatred.

"…_dddDDiiieee…" _it hissed.

Harry watched it rear back it's hand and prepare to strike at the Doctor's heart. The Doctor couldn't break free, there would be no last-second escape this time. Harry looked around desperately, and his eyes fell upon the mirror behind the Angel.

The Angel glared at the Doctor for what it hoped would be the final time. It was just about to strike when it heard a scraping noise. The Angel turned just in time to see Harry dragging the mirror along the floor to the edge of the tower, where the Angel itself had left a gaping hole in the wall.

The Angel shrieked, dropped the Doctor carelessly and dove for Harry. But even with it's speed it wasn't quite fast enough to stop Harry tipping the mirror over the edge. A second later he felt like a bus had hit him, as the Angel knocked him aside. It had jumped after the mirror, howling into the night as it fell.

As they both plummeted the long drop towards the floor, the Angel clawed out for the mirror just out of it's reach. It didn't catch it. Harry and the Doctor made it to the edge just in time to see the mirror strike the grass of Hogwarts ground first. The frame shattered upon impact, and the glass instantly followed, unleashing a mighty explosion as it did. The Angel was enveloped in the great cloud of dark purple smoke that erupted, the force of which sent the Doctor and Harry back to the floor of the tower.

And then, silence fell.

Harry lay face down on the wooden floor; his body aching, his breath wheezing. He looked to the Doctor, lying across the floor. He smiled at Harry.

"That, Harry Potter, was a very brave act indeed."

They painfully hobbled their way out of the castle, and managed to make it to the foot of the Astronomy Tower. The area surrounding the tower was a mess. The TARDIS lay on it's side helplessly, half sunk into the ground. Pieces of brick and stone that had made up the Astronomy Tower ledge were strewn about, though some of the rocks could also have once been part of the Mirror's golden frame, judging by the tiny shards of glass here and there that had also survived the blast. Everything was covered in a strange sort of ash, a dark shade of purple just as the explosion had been.

But what Harry had expected to find was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's the Angel?"

The Doctor nodded to the debris, kicking a particular piece of stone and waiting for a response.

"That's it," he said. "Or used to be, anyway."

"But it was flesh," said Harry. "It was alive. How can it have smashed if it wasn't made of stone anymore?"

"Being flesh was the mirror's doing. When that was destroyed, there was nothing projecting the image that the Angel was using. It turned back to stone because we were watching it fall."

Harry eyed the rocks cautiously.

"You said nothing could kill an Angel."

"I never tried chucking it off a tower into a massively powerful magical explosion, did I?" shrugged the Doctor.

"So… it's gone?"

The Doctor chewed on his lip thoughtfully. Then, with Harry watching him, he blinked, making sure his eyes were closed for a good second and a half. Harry, realising what he was doing, quickly turned back to the debris. But nothing had happened, not one stone was out of place.

"My diagnosis," said the Doctor brightly, "is that the Angel is no more. Ah, there's my girl!"

He turned his attention to the TARDIS before Harry could question him further. And while the Doctor patted his box lovingly and whispered words of encouragement to the woodwork, Harry's gaze fell upon a particular piece of rubble.

He bent down and picked it up, blowing off some ash to reveal part of what once was a larger message, but now simply said _'Erised'._

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry turned to see the Doctor sitting on his side-ways spaceship, smiling sadly at him.

"I know what the mirror meant to you."

Harry shook his head dismissively.

"It was dangerous. First Voldemort, then the Angel. It was too much power. Attracts the wrong type of people."

"True," the Doctor replied. "But still, I'm sorry you had to lose it."

Harry nodded, and sighed quietly to himself. He waited until the Doctor looked away to place the piece of frame safely in his pocket.

"Right!" said the Doctor, hopping off of the TARDIS and clasping in his hands. "I'll clean this mess up later, we've got more pressing matters. Namely, locating some misplaced Professors."

Harry's heart skipped.

"Professors? You mean, Dumbledore, Lupin, Snape… they're not…?"

"Dead? No, of course not. Sorry, did I forget to mention that as well?"

"You did, yeah," said Harry crossly.

"Oh. Well, can't remember everything. Now, come on, help me get my box the right way up."

A few minutes later, Ron and Hermione threw their wands upwards when they heard the trap door open. But instead of the Weeping Angel they expected, the Doctor's head appeared above them, his massive fringe dangling as he peered down at them.

"Fat lot of good you two were," he shouted to them. "If you wanted to sit in the dark and hold hands, you could have just asked."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry the moment she climbed out of the trap door and back into the third floor corridor.

"Oh, Harry, you're alright!"

"Hermione," Harry wheezed, her arms cutting off his air supply.

"The Angel cornered us down there; we couldn't get out."

"Hermione," said the Doctor pressingly.

"And we looked all over and we couldn't find the mirror down there, so we just had to wait and I thought you were both - "

"Hermione shut up!" said Ron finally, earning a glare from her

The Doctor cut off any argument before it could take place.

"Hermione, the Angel is gone, we're all fine. Now hurry up and get in the box, we're off to the middle ages!"

* * *

There was a fruit stall in 14th Century Scotland.

It was located in the middle of a busy street market, and was usually staffed by three peculiar men; two of whom bickered relentlessly. The other one was mostly seen painting signs that offered 2 for 1 Apples and then using his twinkling eyes to charm you into buying them. These men were Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, and Albus Dumbledore. And they were very surprised one afternoon to find one of their students from six hundred years in the future approaching their stall.

"Four pears please, Professors," Harry greeted.

"Harry! How on earth…" said Lupin, he and Snape staring at Harry as if he were a ghost. Dumbledore, however, merely smiled.

"Blimey, it's Potter," said a voice from the back of the stall. "At last, we're saved!"

Harry squinted at the man who had spoke. "Filch? When did you get taken?"

The Hogwarts caretaker sniffed in offence, dropping the box of bananas he held.

"I heard people out of bed, didn't I? Went to catch the blinders, and got snatched by a statue!"

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Err… right, sorry about that. Anyway, we're headed back to Hogwarts, if anyone fancies a lift?"

He grinned and nodded behind him to a large blue box, where Ron, Hermione, and another man the teachers did not recognise waved happily.

Harry found himself wondering if this were all a dream. An hour ago he'd thought his life over, for good. Felt fear like never before. Yet here he was, stepping out of the TARDIS and into the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts. Not only was he alive and well, but also his friends and the teachers he feared dead.

"Extraordinary," Dumbledore said, as he, Snape and Lupin gazed around the Entrance Hall as though it had been a lifetime since they had last seen it. "What a marvellous machine. And you say it's exactly the same night we were taken?"

"Yep," said Ron, as he and Hermione led the teachers towards the Hospital Wing. "Why? How long were you stuck in the past for?"

As they walked away, Harry heard Snape and Lupin say "Too long," in unison.

Harry laughed. He turned back to the TARDIS doors, wondering how he could ever find the words to thank the Doctor. But bizarrely, the doors had closed behind him and would not open when pushed.

"Doctor?" he called.

Not only did he receive no answer from inside the box, but the wheezing noise, the same wheezing noise that had woken him from his sleep three nights ago when this all began, filled the Entrance Hall.

"Doctor!" he shouted.

But no use. The TARDIS faded away, leaving him staring sadly at were it used to be.

"…thanks, I guess," he said to the empty space.

* * *

It had been an eventful start to term, to say the least. The castle had played host to an entity which very nearly destroyed the school itself, though only a handful of people were actually aware of this. After the fear that had gripped the school last year, and with Sirius Black still at large, Dumbledore had decided it best to leave the events of those few days untold.

The message on the wall was covered up, the Astronomy Tower was re-built, and Hogwarts (unfortunately) received a new batch of Dementors immediately - an article about the disappearance of their predecessors in _The Daily Prophet_ being the closest thing to any kind of report about what had happened that night

It was as though none of it had even taken place, and this bothered Harry.

So much so, that he expressed these feelings to Dumbledore one afternoon. The Headmaster agreed wholeheartedly, and promised to rectify the situation.

After this, things swiftly went back to normal. Of course, for Hogwarts, normal meant a insane serial killer on the loose, repeated predictions of impending doom, a Hippogriff on death row, and private lessons to learn complicated spells capable of fending off the soul-sucking creatures supposed to be defending the school.

With everything that happened that year, no one could blame Harry, on that late July afternoon just days away from summer break, for resting his head on his books and staring out of the window drowsily. Professor Binns's tedious, monotone voice was reading aloud from a particularly dull book on the Great Owl Strike of 1909, though not a single student in the swelteringly hot classroom was listening. Like Harry, they were all slumped in their chairs, head in their hands, eyelids gradually drooping shut. Harry himself was seconds away from dozing off, when something drifted past his ears. A strange, mechanical grinding noise, with a wheezing whisper.

Instantly, Harry's eyes flew open. He sat up straight in his chair, and looked around the class to see if anyone else had heard it. But no, his classmates were still hovering on the brink of slumber, as Professor Bins continued to drone on about how the Post Office had attempted to use the floo network as a replacement for owls, but stopped when letters began to frequently catch the flames of the fireplaces they were being tossed into. He frowned to himself. He had been very nearly asleep himself, had he dreamt the noise?

As he pondered, there was movement out of the corner of his eye. Outside, someone had walked past the window, and Harry was certain he'd caught a glimpse of a tweed jacket, a bowtie, and a ridiculous mop of hair.

"Professor Binns I need to go to the toilet!"

Professor Binns stopped reading. Students blinked quickly awake. Ron, Hermione, and everyone else stared at him. Harry had perhaps said that louder than he intended.

"I mean," he coughed awkwardly. "Would it be alright to go to the bathroom please, sir?"

Binns had barely finished reluctantly giving permission before Harry had jumped out of his seat and left the classroom.

He raced through the halls, flew down the stairs and burst out of the castle doors. He looked at the grounds spread out before him, dismayed to see no sign of a blue box, nor of it's owner. With no better plan, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled.

"_Doctor!_"

"Oi!" said a voice from behind him. "There are classes going on, you know?"

The Doctor was leaning against the doors Harry had just ran out of, hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face.

Harry grinned back. He'd spent months thinking about all the things he'd say to the Doctor if they ever met again, but now he was here Harry didn't know which one to choose.

"Why'd you leave?" he eventually settled upon, surprising even himself.

The Doctor shrugged and looked away.

"There was no need for me anymore. I told you Harry, I've stayed away from here for a long time, until there came a day when I couldn't stand back and watch. Now that day has gone, I should be too. Time travel is really all about picking your spots."

Harry considered this. Then he asked, "Was that supposed to make sense?"

"Oh, no," said the Doctor.

"Just checking."

"Anyway," said the Doctor, perking up. "I cleaned up the mess we made before I went, what else did you need me for?"

"Uh, to say thank you?" said Harry, having thought that was obvious.

"Ah, but I didn't save the day, Harry Potter. You did."

"Do you have something against taking gratitude?"

"I've been known to turn bashful when presented with it."

"Then prepare to have pink cheeks." Harry grinned again, and beckoned him to follow.

He led the Doctor to the Trophy Room, back in one piece after the Angel's temper tantrum. Amongst the Quidditch Trophies and House cups, there were a series of silver plaques on the wall. Harry pointed to one in particular. It read:

_This plaque is awarded to The Doctor, for special services to Hogwarts._

"I spoke to Dumbledore," said Harry. "He didn't need much convincing."

"I don't know what to say," said the Doctor, and Harry was pleased to see him appear genuinely touched. "And I _always_ know what to say. Thank you, Harry."

Harry never went back to History of Magic. Instead, he and the Doctor took a walk, strolling across the grounds and enjoying the sunshine. They took a seat on a hill overlooking Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest.

"You know what I want to ask you, don't you," said Harry, interrupting a period of comfortable silence.

Yet the Doctor did not seem startled. He nodded casually.

"Is the Angel really gone," he replied.

"Well, it's either that or 'Who are you?', and I thought you'd prefer the Angel question."

The Doctor nodded gratefully. He cast an eye towards the foot of the Astronomy Tower.

"It's entirely possible the Angel is still alive," he mused.

Harry stared. That was not the answer he'd been hoping for. The Doctor saw his expression and shrugged casually.

"When you're dealing with a Weeping Angel, you can't be certain of anything. We never actually saw it hit the ground, we'd been thrown back by the blast. The Angel would have been able to move just before it struck, and caught in the middle of an immensely powerful explosion."

"An explosion that would have blown it to bits," Harry argued, though there was a distinctly hopeful tone to his voice.

The Doctor nodded hesitantly, irritating Harry with his noncommittal responses.

"You have to remember Harry, Weeping Angel's draw their power from things around them. And the Angel was in the middle of a cloud of magic from a mirror it had moments earlier been using to turn it's deepest desire into reality. In it's final seconds, who's to say the Angel didn't absorb all that power and do the same again - only this time changing it's deepest desire to not dying upon impact? And that's just one suggestion. It may have turned itself invisible. It might have changed what it looked like so what we thought were pieces of the wall and mirror were actually pieces of the Angel. It might have - "

Harry held up a hand. "I get it."

He stared at the ground fretfully. After all this time, the Angel could still be alive. It could have been watching him all year. It could be watching them both right now.

"So just to be safe I threw every piece of debris into a supernova," added the Doctor offhandedly. "If the Angel did survive, it's a long way away from Hogwarts."

Harry gritted his teeth, and glowered at the Doctor, who frowned back meekly.

"I mentioned the most important bit last again, didn't I?"

"Yep," said Harry.

"Sorry. Working on that, really."

Harry rolled his eyes. They returned to enjoying the summer's day in silence. A chain of smoke was puffing out of Hagrid's chimney, and Harry watched it fly up and dissolve into the sky. A few minutes later, several splashing noises caught their attention. Over at the edge of the lake, a single tentacle was poking out of the water and swaying softly. The Doctor smiled and waved back. Harry laughed again.

"You were right," he said, after thinking some more about what he'd planned to say to the Doctor should their paths cross. "About the chamber, and the stone. I wasn't being brave."

The Doctor scoffed. "Of course you were, Harry."

"But you said - "

"All I meant was your motivation was wrong. Never act out of anger, or hate. Don't lower yourself, you're better than that."

He paused again. He seemed to be hesitating, Harry thought; deliberating about whether the words he wanted to speak should be spoken.

"Sometimes things will get dark," he said vaguely. "For anyone, but especially you. People keep trying to come at you because of who you are, only one day it might get worse than that. Someday you might not be fighting just for yourself. And that's bravery at it's purest. When you stand up against something, not because you want revenge or you want the spoils of victory, but just because you know in your heart of hearts it's the right thing to do."

He looked at Harry, searching his face to see if his message had been conveyed. But his friend was staring back uncertainly, understanding the point the Doctor was making yet puzzled as to why he seemed so uncomfortable doing so.

"Doctor, what are you talking about?" he asked carefully.

The Doctor's eyes lingered on him a few seconds more, then he smiled and looked away.

"Nonsense probably," he quipped. "But just, keep it with you, eh? Might come in handy."

His jolly turn was, of course, forced, but Harry decided to move past it.

"Did you come all this way to talk nonsense?"

"Ah," said the Doctor, remembering something. "No, actually, I came to return something to you."

He reached into the inside pocket of his tweed jacket and, like a clown removing an endless handkerchief from his sleeve, he pulled out Harry's invisibility cloak.

"I haven't a clue how long this has been rolling around in the TARDIS," said the Doctor, holding the cloak in his hands and watching them vanish. "It is a bit easy to miss. Only found it by tripping over it." He avoided Harry's gaze awkwardly. "I, er, may have had a bit of fun with it first. It's not half useful when caught in a tight spot, as I'm sure you know."

He handed the cloak over to Harry who took it back eagerly.

"I didn't even realise it was missing," he told the Doctor.

"Yeah, well, don't go losing it. You never know when you might need it."

His gaze flicked briefly towards the Whomping Willow, but Harry was too busy examining his father's cloak to notice.

"Thanks for bringing it back," he said.

"Don't mention it. And now," he sighed heavily and got to his feet, "I better be off."

"Oh," said Harry, standing up himself. "Well, thanks… er, again. For everything, I mean." The Doctor shook his head and opened his mouth to argue, but Harry held up hands to stop him. "Just… take the gratitude."

The Doctor grumbled uncomfortably. "You're welcome."

They started walking again - Harry back towards the Entrance Hall, and the Doctor towards the TARDIS, which Harry now saw standing in the shade of a tall tree not far from the Herbology greenhouses. When they reached the point where they had to part, Harry spoke another of the thoughts he'd been living with since that night in the tower.

"So I'm not going to see you again, am I?"

The Doctor returned his sad smile.

"Probably not. Me being here is kind of against the rules. And I'm not usually one for rules, me. But this time, might be for the best."

Harry nodded glumly.

"Thing is, though, Doctor." he said, looking towards the TARDIS. "That's a big box, inside at least. Being in there all the time, on your own, must get a bit… quiet."

The Doctor looked to the TARDIS too. "Yeah," he said wistfully. "It does, sometimes."

"Well, if it ever gets so quiet you feel like breaking some rules… we're always about, you know? Me, Ron and Hermione." He punched the Doctor's arm lightly and awkwardly. "Don't be a stranger."

The Doctor smiled again. He held out his hand.

"Harry Potter, it was a pleasure."

"Likewise," Harry replied, grinning widely and shaking the Doctor's hand. "Goodbye, Doctor.

The Doctor turned on his heel and set off towards the greenhouses.

"Until next time, at least." Harry called after him.

The Doctor laughed and gave Harry a mock-salute before stepping into his box. The leaves on the tree above the TARDIS started to rustle, and that impossible noise filled the air again. This time, Harry was content to watch the box gradually vanish. Just as the last hint of blue departed from view, Ron and Hermione were running towards him

"We heard the noise in the Great Hall," said a breathless Ron.

"Is it him, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Is it the Doctor?"

"It was," Harry replied. "You just missed him."

Both of their faces fell, and they looked despondently at the square patch of flattened grass under a tree by the greenhouses.

"Don't worry though," Harry told them with a small smile. "I reckon we might see him again, someday."

* * *

That night, Harry was the last of the boys in his dormitory to be reading by the light of his bedside lamp. He was attempting some last minute revision before his Astronomy exam the next day, but finally decided to call it a day. His mind was too focused on other things. He closed his book of notes and placed it on the floor next to his bed. Reaching for the switch on his lamp, he stopped.

Sitting next to it on the table, where it had sat all year, was the piece of frame from the Mirror that Harry had picked up that night. He looked at it closely. A particular fragment of the Doctor's words from earlier popped into his head.

Harry stared at the piece of frame. His eyes ran over the grooves in the wood where the word _'__Erised__'_was engraved.

He blinked.

The block had not moved. Harry watched it for a few seconds more, then shook his head wearily. He removed his glasses, turned off his lamp and settled into bed.

On his desk, the block of frame inched forwards.

* * *

_The End._

* * *

**(A.N.) Super long final chapter, I know. But there we have it. A massive thank you to every single peson who reviewed - this story has recieved more comments than any of my others combined. Seriously can't thank you enough for that. **

**This story started as a one chapter idea, but became two chapters, and then three. It just kept getting bigger and bigger and as it did it got even more fun to write. I hope people enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.**

**And if you did (shameless plug warning), why not check out some of my other Doctor Who related tales! I'm three episodes into a series of stories featuring the 11th Doc and an original companion, Ryan Murphy. But if OCs aren't your thing, I just recently published a little comedy one shot with the dream team of 11/Amy/Rory, which is called TARDIS FC. Check my profile for links.**

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	9. Sequel is up

Just in case anyone missed it, I've began posting the sequel to this story. It's called 'The Angel's War' and you can find the link in my profile. :D


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